Doublepines Archive
by xXSomeoneRandomXx
Summary: This is in case in-your-face-elizabeth aka doublepines deletes her Tumblr.
1. PSA

**This is a PSA. The Tumblr account in-your-face-elizabeth is the original creator of any content in this stiory. Her account is still up as of now, I'm only archiving her fanfiction in case she deletes her account. Please go support her account and read her fics from there. I repeat, this is not my content. Please support the original creator.**


	2. Another PSA

Stop fucking complaining to me about your stupid "wall of text" problems. The original author still has her account up. Go read it on Tumblr if it bothers you that damn much. I've said it so many times now this isn't my work just a reupload in case that particular account goes down. I'll fix the problems later and add the rest of her stuff when I feel like it cause this is my account, but you have no reason to complain about something that isn't mine. Don't read it from here while the original source is still open. @ in_your_face_elizabeth on Tumblr she has a master fic list of her stuff. The one posted on my account is called Limbo but I'd suggest reading the ones that come before it first.


	3. Mabel's Dream Boy (1st in DB AU)

mabel's dream boy

ayyyy who wants some way-too-long overemotional awkward twincest fic! yes? no? well you're gettin it anyway

this here is the prequel to s'gonna be a long night and limbo

yEP that's about it happy incest fic reading or whatever

It's everything _Dream Boy High_ (and its four fabulous sequels) made it out to be—give or take a few things, of course. _Her_ dream boy doesn't have blindingly teal or white or pink hair, and he doesn't play bass or guitar or a drum set with cymbals shaped like stars. But he _does_ play the trumpet in band class. And anyway, the idea behind it is the same.

Yes, after years of casual (and during her heightened boy-crazy stages, not so casual) searching, Mabel Pines has finally found her very own perfect, no doubts about it, in-it-for-the-long-haul, dream boy. Turns out he was just hiding in her eleventh grade Algebra 2 class, just waiting for her to find him, so their nearly too-adorable-to-be-true romance could flourish. Which, she did. And, it did.

Dream boy's name? Aiden Zimmerman. With emphasis on the dream part—dream _y_ , that is. Tall, with dirty blonde hair that's usually styled into a beauteous 'do that's just so perfectly pointy in the front; big blue eyes that make her heart go all ooey-gooey. Oh, and did she mention he's really hot? Like, _whoo_ , all that running from being a forward on the school soccer team sure does that boy good… he's also sweet, easygoing, and lets her be her weird self without giving her that judgey-eye thing she's used to getting from a lot of people.

Mabel most definitely lucked out and bagged a good 'un—really, she's got girls jealous of her and everything. Because there's also the fact that Aiden is pretty dang popular, although that was never on her dream boy criteria list. Things just happened to turn out that way. Hey, it's not _her_ fault one of the most popular and likable boys at her school happened to fall for her fantabulous beauty and quirky charm. She's just awesome that way.

Aiden has held the prestigious title of 'boyfriend' for the past two months, one week and four days, by far the longest relationship she's ever had. She's had "boyfriends" in the past, but looking back on it none of those dudes lasted longer than a week or two. Now that she has the real deal, she doesn't even really count those little baby flings as boyfriends anymore (except for Mermando. Who else can say they've dated a merman?).

 _Gosh,_ though, Aiden is seriously just the best boyfriend, sometimes Mabel can't even believe how lucky she is. He's always slipping cute love notes in her locker between classes. Always holds her hand as they walk through the halls together. Lets her eat half his fruit roll up every day at lunch. Blows hilarious, over-dramatic kisses to the bleachers where she sits to watch his games as he runs out on the field. And always good for a cuddlefest when they have movie dates at each other's houses. A cuddlefest, or a makeout. Boyfriend makeouts are very important and _very_ necessary for her health and wellbeing, Mabel has come to find.

Ah. Mrs. Mabel Zimmerman. Sounds good. Sounds right. She'll miss being a Pines for sure, but man, she swears she's always wanted her future husband's last name to start with a 'Z.' It's undeniably the coolest letter of the alphabet!

Aiden is just, ugh, _perfect_. Almost suspiciously perfect. Nuts to Dipper, who never hesitates to point out how annoyingly cliché her lovestruck sighs are. He doesn't get it. Dipper may have gotten all the math-sci genes, but she's got _romantic_ science down to an art. And she's one-hundred-percent certain that her and Aiden are _meant to be._ Their relationship couldn't be better.

… _Okay_ , fine, when she says 'couldn't be better,' she actually means 'couldn't be better except for a few things.' Not even a few. There are only two things that she can think of, two things that could stand to be improved upon in terms of her relationship with Aiden, and eyy, that's not a bad number, not a bad number at all.

One — sometimes the guy comes on a little too strong with the tongue game. When they're making out. And she hasn't worked up the courage to critique her boyfriend's kissing skills yet. But hey, of all the boyfriend-girlfriend problems that could happen, this one isn't all that bad. Fixable. One day she'll find a nice way to show him how to lighten up with the spit n' stuff. No big deal.

Two — well. Unfortunately, the other thing that's not as great as it could be when it comes to her bf is a much less obvious fix.

It's not a thing at all, actually. He's more of a 'who.' And that 'who' is her twin brother, who seems to, maybe, have some sort of an issue with her boyfriend. Or something related to him. But she doesn't really know what that issue is… it's hard to tell it's even there, sometimes. Urk. It's so hard to fix a problem that you can't quite pinpoint. Or even figure out if it's actually a real problem at all. Which is kind of the essence of the problem?

It started off really subtle, way back at the beginning of her relationship, with the offhanded comments about how Aiden's hair was too pointy to be real, or the occasional look of disapproval when it came to anything 'Mabel's boyfriend.' She'd chalked it up to Dipper's natural protective brother instincts kicking in. Which, she could understand. He's always been wary of the guys she's been interested in over the years. It's just a thing he does. A protective brother thing. It's kinda sweet, actually.

Or at least, it _was_ sweet _._ Now it's turned into something highly irksome. Plus, as the last two months have crept by, the evidence keeps stacking up that this isn't just an overprotective thing. It's something… else. Like Dipper has a problem with Aiden specifically.

The proof is in the eyerolls, or the looks, or in the unnecessarily harsh comments, all of which have been growing more and more frequent. Like for example, last week when she drove the three of them for a quick study-break-fast-food-run on a school night. She'd glanced in the rear view mirror to catch Dipper glaring at the back of Aiden's head from the backseat, his arms crossed huffily, when all Aiden was doing was faintly bopping along to the song playing on the radio. Just sitting there, glaring away like a turdfacedumbbutt! _Ugh_. Yeah. It's stuff like that. All totally unprovoked, for no real reason. It's gotten to the point where he looks vaguely bored or annoyed whenever Aiden opens his mouth to speak. Like, Dipper can be a condescending jerk sometimes, but it's never been _this_ extreme. And especially not towards someone he knows his sister cares about.

By now she has a seriously nagging vibe that Dipper doesn't even like Aiden at all. Which not only makes her feel crummy and disappointed, but it also makes no sense, because Aiden is awesome! She's not just biased because she's his girlfriend, seriously, everybody loves Aiden. Even her parents love him! Mabel had him over for dinner the other night, and her mom and dad had bantered with him, asked him questions that he knocked out of the park, and pretty much wore big smiles of approval throughout. They clearly thought Aiden was a keeper. Dipper on the other hand barely said anything the entire meal, just spent the whole time halfheartedly pushing the spaghetti on his plate around with a fork.

She doesn't get it. Every time her brother and her boyfriend interact, Aiden is nothing but nice to Dipper. _What_ is her bro's problem?

Maybe it's something else? Maybe _she's_ the problem? Dipper's formerly mild complaints when she's having one of her inadvertent boyfriend gush-fests sorta _have_ morphed into him pretty much snapping at her to give it a rest. And there's been some weird-ish stuff too. She keeps catching Dipper staring at her, and when she jokingly calls him out on it, he just grumbles and darts his eyes away, offering no real explanation. There've also been instances of him doing this weird stuttery thing around her (and she's pretty sure she's the cause since it's only happened when it's just the two of them), randomly stumbling over his words or weirdly pausing halfway through a sentence and then being an awk dork about it. That's only happened a few times, but still. Since when was this a thing in the first place? Dipper has gotten tongue-tied and under-breath-whispery around tons of people, but never her. Their dynamic has always been natural and easy-going as pie, at least until these weird little instances.

And in really recent weeks, Mabel has noticed that he's taken to somehow finding a reason to leave the living room as soon as her and Aiden come in to hang out on the couch too. Or _any_ room she comes into with Aiden at her side. And, just, it's _Aiden_ , and she sorta can't get enough of that kid right now, so unfortunately she's been seeing less and less of her brother.

Maybe that's the problem? He thinks he's being traded up for the boyfriend and is expressing his anger through random acts of jerky weirdness?

That seems kind of overdramatic for Dipper. After all, it's not like she's been outright ditching him.

Although… she does have a clear memory of her brother getting mad at her that one time for backing out of their traditional mini-golf-madness night in favor of hanging out with Aiden and his friends. And there's that other time where she and Dipper made plans to drive to the edge of town together and check out this apparently once-in-a-lifetime comet through his prized complicated-looking telescope that he got for their fourteenth birthday—buuut that hadn't ended up happening, because Aiden had been bummed about something that afternoon, and she lost track of time sticking around his house to comfort him, and then she forgot to text Dipper, and… and there's that one other time where…

…Okay, so maybe she is a _little_ of guilty of outright ditching out on the Dipster a few times in favor of some extra boyfriend-girlfriend time. But come on man, it's not a crime to want to spend time with your still-relatively-new and super-cute significant other, right? If their roles were reversed and it was Dipper and his girlfriend (although the steady girlfriend thing hasn't really happened for him yet) instead, she'd totally understand. So she doesn't get why her brother can't, sometimes.

There have also been some awkward points. Those might be worth mentioning, possibly problem-inducing. Mabel's an affectionate person, and Aiden's lips are always just right there for the taking, and sometimes she can't help herself. And maybe sometimes her brother unwittingly gets caught in the crossfire of these semi-public displays of affection around their house, or at school, or in the car, or anywhere, really, much to his obvious dismay. Maybe that's what he's mad about.

… _Blargh_ , the worst was probably last week, when Dipper came home early from academic decathlon team practice and accidentally witnessed a few seconds of, uh, 'more-lively-than-usual boyfriend makeouts' on the living room couch. Boyfriend's hand up her magenta sweater included. Thaaat admittedly might'a been a little scarring for her poor bro-bro, evident in his cracky-voiced, "Oh, jeez, _why,"_ and how angry he'd seemed as he hurriedly stalked up the stairs, a hand shielding his face from the blasphemous scene. But, she'd made it a point to apologize later, and then he'd apologized for maybe, possibly, overreacting a little, and they'd ended up staying up super late together in his room watching funny internet videos and playing video games and feasting on copious amounts of delicious unhealthy snacks. It was the ultimate forgiveness ritual, so she thought they were past that! If it were Dipper and a girlfriend, she'd be understanding of the occasional PDA. She really would!

 _Whatever_ the reason for the kinda-sorta-problem, as time passes it's been causing Dipper to get quieter and quieter, and more and more M.I.A., and more and more of a roundabout jerk to her bf. But not so much that she can self-assuredly call him out on all of it outright. Not so much that she can know for sure that all these obscure happenings are totally, positively, one-hundred-percent connected.

The withdrawn, not-quite-being-himself and seeing less of him parts—yeah, they make her a little sad. Dipper's her twin, and he's also basically her unwritten best friend, and seeing him act like this is just plain disheartening. But— but with a giant, capital B— best bro or not, Mabel's gettin' reeeal tired of him acting like a royal poophead towards her dream boy. So much so that it's almost kind of drowning out the sad, concerned-sister feelings. Almost. Well, maybe just a little.

 _Urgg_ , he's being such a huge butt, though!

She can see it even right now, as she sits across from him at the kitchen table. Yeah. Yep, there it is. That minuscule, squinty-eyed 'wow this is stupid' look he just threw at the ceiling while Aiden tells a story about what happened at soccer practice today.

She's not going to call Dipper out on it though, for the same reason she never does. It would just embarrass him. And her. And probably Aiden too. The chill atmosphere of dinnertime would get all stuffy and awkward. The look might be nothing anyway, it's so hard to tell. Not worth it.

Mabel sets down her container of Lo Mein to take a sip of Pitt. It's take out night in the Pines household, which she especially makes a point to invite her boyfriend over for every week now, and this week Chinese was deemed the winner. At the moment, it's just her, Aiden and Dipper at the table. Dad's at an evening meeting with a client; Mom was originally eating with them, but she had to run out halfway through when she got a call from work, leaving the three teenagers to rule the house. Luckily her parents are chill enough to sometimes let Aiden stay over even if they're out. Psh, they trust her, they know she's not gonna do anything stupid… although the fact that Dipper's here too probably helps. Who would ever attempt sexy-type activities with their boyfriend while their brother was in the very near vicinity?

"—And yeah, now Mike's pretty pissed, ugh, it's so over the top. He might even cancel that party he was gonna have at his cousin's empty apartment next Friday. Which, by the way, we were invited to," Aiden adds, directing the last sentence towards Mabel.

She lifts her shoulders, quirking her mouth to one side. "Well that stinks about the whole Mike-Jesse-Damon dramarama, but it's not like we were gonna go to that party anyway."

"Oh, why not?"

"Uh, _duhh!_ Next Friday is the spring dance, ya knucklehead! And I never pass up a chance to get my dancey pants on, so we are most definitely going to that."

"We are? Because I don't recall asking you yet," Aiden jokes.

"Very funny. You're a funny one. I'll be expecting my grand invite soon, buster," Mabel retorts, bopping her boyfriend on the nose and grinning. She turns her gaze across the table, where her brother has been diligently playing the role of silent background character as usual. "What about you, brodeski? You planning on askin' any purty ladies to the dance?"

Dipper shakes his head, absentmindedly stabbing at the last few scraps of food on his plate. "Nnnope. No need, 'cuz I'm not going."

She blows a raspberry. "Aw, laaame. Come onnnn, brother, surely there must be _somebody_ out there you wanna take out for a magical night of dancing and fun."

"Not really. I suck at dancing."

Her eyes roll. "Okay fine, just fun, then. And FYI Dip, you're not as bad a dancer as you think—you just have a hard time finding your groove, y'know? If you just toned it down with that arm move you're always doing, you'd be golden. Eh. Eh. You know the one." Mabel proceeds to imitate said move, raising her fists to shoulder level and shimmying around, making an 'undz undz undz' beat through her teeth. Aiden laughs, while Dipper blushes and sinks down in his seat, complaining at her to knock it off. She has mercy on him, relenting with the dancing and continuing on with her point. "But seriously, you're always skipping dances. You should try going this time, they're so fun! And I can totally get you a date, if that's what you're worried about. I'm an expert matchmaker. You know this, I know this, we all know this."

"I do know that," Aiden says airily, putting down his fork to sling a toned arm across her shoulders. Mabel grins over at her boyfriend, placing a quick peck on his cheek—complete with a _'muah!'—_ next putting a finger to her chin in thought.

"Hmm. Let's see what we got to work with. Hmmm… would you be interested innnn… Ella Felton?"

Dipper is frowning faintly, staring at some unknown point between Mabel and Aiden. "Pass."

"What's wrong with Ella? She's so sweet!"

"If by sweet you mean 'loud and obnoxious,' then I agree with you. Pass."

Mabel waves a hand in defeat. "Blah. Fine, fine, have it your way. Umm, um um um… ooh. Ooh! How 'bout Taylor Reinhard? She's cute, right? And I've seen you talking to her before. _And_ I know for a fact she's single. _And_ judging by her outfits she loves plaid flannel as much as you do." Mabel lets out a good natured chuckle, smiling warmly at her brother. She puts on a jokey accent. "And you're a catch, mah brotha! I bet she'd totally go with you, if you asked."

Before Dipper can utter another bland "pass," Aiden speaks up, a friendly smile on his face. "Hey, I'm friends with Taylor, she sits next to me in english. I could talk to her for you, if you want. Get the ball rolling."

Dipper's eyes raise from his plate, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "Thanks, but I'm good." He stabs at a piece of sesame chicken, sighing. "Probably just gonna end up going over Sam's to play Xbox or something."

But Aiden doesn't give it up right away, clearly trying to break through Dipper's unyielding stone-face. "Really, it's not a problem. I could just—"

"— _Seriously_. Not necessary, I'm good." Dipper cuts him off, and the blonde boy deflates.

"You sure?"

"Yyyup." Dipper pops the piece of chicken in his mouth, chewing pointedly, and Mabel can no longer stop herself from intervening.

"Come on Dip, don't be such a grumpy weiner! You should totes let him talk to her for you, he's awesome at talking people up. Then you could ask her and we could all go together!" Mabel's eyes suddenly jump into excited mode. "Ahhh, it could be a twin double date! It's about time we had one of those! You'll have fun bro, trust me, I will make _sure_ of it."

"Yeah dude, listen to your sister. Her word is good." Mabel, too distracted by the affectionate nudge-smile combo Aiden gives her as he says this, doesn't notice her brother's eyes narrow.

"Look, I don't need your help to get a date for some stupid dance, okay? I _said_ , I'm good." Immediately the young couple knocks it off with the mild goo-goo eyes to turn and stare at Dipper with raised eyebrows, because there was more than a little bitterness in his tone, and woah, where did that come from? Dipper quickly drops any and all eye contact, already in the process of standing up from the table, opening his mouth to mumble sarcastically, "And I _think_ I've figured out by now when it's a good idea to _'listen to my sister,_ ' but hey. _Thanks_ for the advice anyway, man."

Hands shoved in his pockets, a spiteful hunch in his back, Dipper trudges out of the kitchen. Aiden waits until the clearly irritated boy has been gone for a few solid seconds before speaking, a confused expression on his face. "Uh… did I do something?"

Mabel shakes her head slowly, still glaring at the doorway Dipper disappeared through. "Nope. _That_ was just my brother being a major wad of jerk for no flippin' reason, what the heck." She sighs, ceasing her glare-fest with the door, her shoulders slumping as she throws Aiden an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, he's not usually so… blarghhh."

He frowns uncertainly. "I dunno babe… sometimes I get the vibe that your brother like, _hates_ me or something."

"Whaaat? That's crazy talk. Dip totes thinks you're the cheese!"

Her boyfriend raises an eyebrow, giving her a skeptical look. _"Mabel._ Come on. _"_

She deflates quickly. "Okayyy, so maybe he _has_ been acting a little funky to you lately, but that doesn't mean he _hates_ you… and anyways. _I_ think you're the cheese, and that's what counts, right?"

"Can't argue with you there." He grins, leans over to give her a quick kiss, leaving Mabel smiling and swooning when he backs away to keep talking. "But like, still, he's a big part of your life, you know? I mean, you've showed me enough of your scrapbooks for me to figure out that you guys' whole 'mystery twins' deal, or whatever, is kind of a pretty big thing—"

"We _are_ a pretty iconic pair of siblin's," Mabel interjects with a proud smile.

"Totally iconic. Point is, he's important to you, I want him to like me."

"I know, I want him to like you too…" She says wistfully, more to herself than Aiden. She sighs, deciding to finally voice out loud what's been niggling away at her mind. "Ya know? It might not be a beef with just you. To be honest he's kinda been acting funky in general lately… I mean Dipper gets in funks all the time, but they've never involved him acting like a royal butthead to people for no reason. I'm not sure _what's_ going on with him."

"Maybe you should talk to him? See what's up?"

Gnawing guilt bubbles up in Mabel's stomach the instant Aiden says the words. Of course she should talk to Dipper. Of course she's _going_ to talk to Dipper—finally find out why he's acting out, see if there's anything she can do to help fix this problem, and set things straight. If there is a problem. But the fact that she had to have her boyfriend suggest the idea to her first is just… it makes her uneasy, and maybe a tiny bit ashamed. Because being there for her twin is the type of thing that's always been a reflex. Not a boyfriend suggestion.

"Yeah… yeah, I'll talk to him."

Aiden nods. "Cool."

They finish up the last of their dinners, and Aiden helps her do the dishes, complete with water flicking and nose kisses and sitcom worthy banter. Not long after that he receives the unavoidable 'come home' text from his mom, and the pair makes their way to the front door, hand in hand. Easily wrapping her arms around his neck, the smitten teenage girl rises up on her tiptoes to give her boyfriend a thorough goodbye kiss—and then one more for the road. They wave goodbye, the front door shuts, and then the house is silent.

Automatically Mabel looks back toward the stairs, her jaw setting.

 _Alright, Mabel girl. Time to figure out what the heck is going on._

She ascends the steps, marching her way down the hall to rap furiously on Dipper's bedroom door. Not even bothering to wait for an invitation inside, Mabel barges right in to find Dipper lazily sprawled out on his bed, propped on his pillows with a book in his hands and a pen in his mouth—for scribbling his own notes and theories in the margins, no doubt. He doesn't react to her sudden presence at all, just turns a page and keeps reading. With an annoyed grumble, Mabel continues marching until she's standing right next to the bed, her hands on her hips. She clears her throat loudly.

"What's up." His tone is bored, and he doesn't even bother to look up, and this only serves to make Mabel that much angrier.

"Umm, I think you know very well what's up, brother." She huffs, folding her arms, giving him an incredulous look. "What was that back there? Aiden was only trying to help, and you totally snuffed him!"

"Hey, I told him I didn't want to go to that stupid dance. He kept pressin' on anyway. What do you want from me?"

Her cheeks puff up, pink with irritation, and she finally lets it fly all in one exasperated exhale. "Why do you have such a problem with Aiden!"

Dipper's shoulders stiffen, but the bored voice prevails. "I don't have a problem with Aiden." Mabel's eyes narrow at this completely lame response, one of her eyelids twitching, and then her hand swings around to lightly-but-also-not-super-gently cuff the side of her brother's head, knocking off his hat. Dipper recoils, finally tearing his eyes away from that dumb book of his to glare at her. "The hell was that for!"

"You got thwacked because you are quite obviously _lying_ , Dipper! Liars get thwacked in this household!"

"I'm not lying!"

"There you go again! With the lies! Shameful. Such shame you're bringing upon this family!"

"Ughh Mabel, you're driving me crazy…" He puts down his book to direct an irritated groan up at the ceiling with his palms held up, fingers bent in a 'why me' pose; then lets his arms drop lifelessly, his head falling back and bumping lightly against his headboard. "It's _not_ —I don't have a problem with your boyfriend okay? He's fine. He's a cool dude. Happy for you guys."

"Okay, well if he's such a 'cool dude' then why do you keep writing off everything he says, and acting all quiet and annoyed whenever he's around, and glaring at the back of his head?" Mabel points an accusatory finger down at her brother. "Yeah, I saw you in the car the other night, Dipper. You can't tell me to my face that that wasn't a straight up back-of-the-head glare."

Her specific example throws off Dipper's game, his face going blank. His mouth opens and closes, but he says nothing. Mabel rolls her eyes for what feels like the hundredth time that day. "Just spit it out already. Do you hate him or something?"

His head gives a single, slight shake, and he picks his book back up. "No, I don't hate him."

Mabel's hands move back to her hips, her eyebrows raising expectantly. "Well then what is it?"

"What's what?"

"I _mean_ , what's been going on with you, Dipper? Clearly something is making you feel not-so-great and you're taking it out on Aiden—"

Dipper scowls. "Oh please, how would you even know what I'm feeling? I barely see you anymore since you guys started going out!"

"And whose fault is that? You're the one who's always being all avoid-y and leaving the room and junk!"

"Well _excuse_ me for not wanting to stick around to watch my sister and her boyfriend mack on each other _twenty-four-seven!"_

She waves him off, scoffing. "Pshh, you're exaggerating. Besides, it's not like Aiden is _always_ over here."

Dipper snorts. "Yeah, except, he is."

"He is not!" Mabel spouts off defensively.

"Oh come on, Mabel. You and I both know that the vast, _vast_ majority of the time, either he's here, or you're not. End of story."

"Wh— that's not true," she says hesitantly, her conviction having quickly dropped off into the land of uncertainty.

" _Sure_ , okay. Fine. It's not true. Whatever you say, Mabel." Dipper's voice drips with biting sarcasm, making her eyebrows furrow, but then he adds something that feels a little like a hard poke to the chest. "Now can you please get out of my room?"

Mabel's face wilts. "Dipper, you're being really mean," she says, her voice dropping to sad quiet levels.

Her dejected puppy eyes must've gotten to him, because the hard look on his face eases right up. "…Sorry. I'm not trying to be mean, I'm just… frustrated."

"How come?"

He has to set his open book down on his thigh so he can throw his hands up, as if the answer should be obvious to her. "Because! I miss you, okay? I feel like I never see you anymore, and when I do, you're with Aiden. And I miss hanging out with you. When it's just me and you. Bam. There you go. It's out there. Go nuts." He swiftly picks the book back up and buries his nose in it, holding it up higher so he can avoid her eyes.

…Okay, yeah, and now she feels kinda bad and guilty. Mabel just stands there silently for a bit before carefully moving to sit down on the edge of his bed, her heart feeling heavy. "Aw man… I'm sorry, Dip. I didn't even realize…"

"Don't worry about it. It's whatever." He turns a page.

Mabel looks down at the floor, distractedly kicking at the junk on his carpet. "…If you missed me, why didn't you just say something? I would've made the effort to get more twin time in."

Her brother heaves a desolate sigh, finally closing the book and putting it aside so he can scooch over and drop his feet off the bed, slouching next to her. "Because, Mabel, they'd be pity hangouts. Like I know you're not intentionally snuffing me or anything… you're just hanging out with who you wanna hang out with. And, and that's fine, I don't wanna hold you back from that, I just…ugh, y'know. It's whatever."

Mabel frowns, nudging him with an elbow until he looks at her. "Would'ja quit making it sound like I don't love spending time with you? That's just a blasphemous concept in itself, bro." She turns her gaze down to her hands, starting to braid and unbraid her fingers. "…I guess I _might've_ gotten carried away with the whole boyfriend thing. Sorta. Probably. It's just. He's my first one, y'know? And I'm all lame and twitterpated and junk. "

"Yeah…" Dipper's slouch gets a little bit slouchier. "…yeah."

Determined to fix that forlorn edge in her twin's voice, Mabel scoots closer to him, wrapping an arm around his back and laying her head on his shoulder. She feels him tense up for a second before he relaxes into her hold. With her free hand she begins to gently poke his cheek. "Hey, hey you. Just because I have a boyfriend now, doesn't mean I care about you any less, you big dork. Duhhh. Ain't nobody ever replacing you, Dip. You're one of a kind. Definitely the best brother I could ever ask for, hands down."

He quirks a smile at that, nodding slowly to himself. "Thanks, Mabel."

She stops poking him, letting her hand flop down into her lap. "And I promise to let up a little with the boyfriend gushiness, okay? As long as _you_ promise to tell me what you're feeling from now on, rather than turning into a giant buttface. Oh, and we are totes for sure gonna hang out more. And if you dare call them pity hang outs I will punch you in the head."

"Cool. And noted." He nods with a small laugh, sounding both pleased and sheepish as he lays his head on top of hers. It goes quiet again, the twins sitting comfortably together, before Mabel realizes she has more to say.

"…We're just… we're growing up, y'know? And part of that means boyfriends and girlfriends are gonna be coming on the scene…. or are already on the scene, you get me. And maybe we're gonna be spending a little less time together, but…" She purses her lips, giving Dipper a one armed squeeze, kindheartedly shaking him back and forth. "But hey. No matter how any those relationships turn out for either of us, _dahh-nah-nah-nah-can't-touch-this,_ " she gestures a finger between the two of them. "It's pretty awesome to know we'll always have each other, no matter what. Twin power for life, bro."

"Yeah, it is…" Dipper sighs again. Mabel expects him to say something corny and wise and accepting next, so she's a little taken aback when he only mumbles sadly, "It's just… it's not the same."

She blinks a couple times, her eyebrows raising a little. Weird. This is like some sort of odd role reversal. Usually she's the one who gets whiny and quiet and sad-nostalgic about changes that just sorta come with them getting older, not Dipper. This is really… _strange_ , for him.

She lifts her head off his shoulder, pulling away to look her brother in the eye, searching for… something. He frowns, shrinking back under her stare.

"What."

"You're not telling me everything," Mabel says suddenly.

Indeed, her suspicions are confirmed in the way her brother seems to blanch at the statement, his eyes immediately becoming shifty. "Huh? Yeah I am."

She shakes her head, resolute in her intuition. "Nope. Your eyebrow just did that anxious twitchy thing. Give it up Dip, I know all your tells. I'm a master at reading Dipper tells. What else is bothering you?"

"There's nothing else."

"Ha! There it goes again! Twitch! Twitch twitch twitch!"

"Mabel, knock it off!"

"Twitchy twitchyyy…" Mabel grins at him, but he's really not having it right now, so she lets the teasing smile drop, shooting him a semi-annoyed look. "Dipper. I'm just trying to help. Is it another thing about me and Aiden?"

" _No—_ I mean, it's nothing—dammit." Dipper closes his eyes with a grimace, knowing he just gave himself away.

"Is it something about me? What's buggin' ya, son?"

"Just let it go, Mabel," he mutters in a warning tone.

She blows a huge raspberry. "No, I'm not just gonna," she drops the pitch of her voice to do her best Dipper impression, " _'let it go, Mabel.'_ If there's another reason you've been acting so weird lately I think I deserve know about it, so spill those beans. Spill 'em."

He's subtly shying away from her on the bed, a bit of color rising in his cheeks. "Look, this isn't—it's something I need to work through on my own, okay? It's— it's personal. So can we drop it please?"

Mabel quirks an incredulous smile despite herself. "'It's _personal?'_ Like… a _dude_ problem, or something? Or…" she lowers her voice to a loud whisper, "is it a butt rash?"

"Oh my god. I'm not answering that."

She lays a hand on his shoulder and laughs good naturedly. "I'm just playin', man. C'mon, why won't you just let me help you? I'm great at sisterly advice."

"Because!" Dipper sputters. "Because—"

"Becaussse…"

His shoulder grows stiffer and stiffer under her hand, causing Mabel's eyebrows to raise. His face looks almost… pained? What? "Because. I just—I can't—tell you."

"Uhhhm why not?"

He shakes his head, tight-lipped, shrugging off her hand. "I just can't, okay? Just — trust me. You wouldn't wanna know."

"Bro. Come on. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's not that bad. Remember that time you put a dent in dad's car? Or when I walked in on you rockin' out to Cher in the bathroom? Did I, your loyal twin, ever rat you out or judge you? No, is the answer. I had your back. And I will have it again."

"…This isn't anything like that," he mumbles, staring intently at his knees.

And now she's 500% more curious. She pats his back a few times. "That's okay, tell me anyway."

"I'm not gonna do that. Give it a rest."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pleeeease?"

"Mabel, _stop_. I'm serious."

"Tell me or I'll fart on you. Don't think I won't. And I _know_ you know I took Mom's leftover chili for lunch today, so, yeah. You do the math."

"Ugh, you're so gross — "

She starts nudging a fist into his side, "Gross and looking for answers! And I'm not gonna stop 'til I get 'em, so just quit being lame and tell me already, tell me tell me tell me _tell me—"_

Suddenly Dipper leaps to his feet, his hands balled up into fists, taking her a little by surprise. "Okay, fine! You really wanna know?"

"Uh, yeah, I do!"

"Well then ya _can't blame me_ when you hate me forever after I tell you!" he yells, starting to do that frantic pacing thing he does.

Woah. Well that escalated… "Ah, quit being such a drama king, Dipper. There's nothing that could make me hate you forever."

"Ho ho, you wanna bet?"

"Pfff, sure! I'll take that bet. But it's a dumb pointless bet because I promise you Dipper, there is literally _nothing_ that could ever make me hate you, ever. Now tell me what's really been bothering you!"

Dipper seems to reach some sort of breaking point, his expression dangerously close to crazy-eyed status, and he abruptly stops pacing, spinning to face her.

" _Fine!_ Have it your way! The reason I've been acting so fucking weird lately is because I'm— I—" He sputters. He actually pulls at his hair, then drags his hands down the length of his face. " _Just_ —nevermind. Forget it. Please Mabel, please, just forget it. Please."

He just stands there hanging his head, bringing a listless hand back up to hide his flushed face. This isn't going the way she thought it would when she first started pestering him. Not at all.

"Dipper?" Mabel asks worriedly. She gets to her feet, cautiously edging her way over to his spot across the room. "Hey, I'm here. Talk to me, bro."

"I just— it's just…" All the bite has left his voice. He lets his hand drop, reluctantly glancing up at her.

Mabel's stomach drops. His face looks scared, and uncertain, and so so _sad_ , and— wait, woah, holy crap, _what_ is going on with him? What did she miss? It's obviously tearing him up inside. She knows what Dipper's torn up face looks like, and that's definitely his torn up face. Her voice softens, the last tiny bit of her aggravation evaporating away. "Dip, what is it? What's wrong? Please, tell me."

For a few seconds he says nothing. "I… I _want_ to, Mabes," Dipper finally croaks out. "Fuck, I want to, but I just… can't _._ "

The end of his sentence sounded so frighteningly brokenthat Mabel reflexively reaches out for her brother, starting forward with every intention of pulling him into a long, comforting hug—but he rashly dodges out of her reach, holding up his hands at her.

"Please don't, not right now." It almost sounds like he's begging her. Instantly Mabel's eyes begin to water, and owie, yeah, that's definitely a stabbing sensation in her chest, there.

"Dipper," she sniffs, blinking rapidly.

"I'm sorry, it's not you, I'm just…" His eyes squeeze shut tightly and then he grimaces, shaking his head to himself. "God _dammit,_ I'm so _tired_ of _—ugh_ this is so fucking _stupid_ —"

Her teary brown eyes grow wide. Woah. Something is clearly, like… _killing_ him. And she didn't even know about it until just now? Oh gosh oh gosh, poor Dipper, he was totally right about her shunting him off to the side of her life the last couple months, oh man, ugh, she's a terrible sister!

"Hey, seriously, you can tell me, Dip," Mabel coaxes, aiming to sound as reassuring as possible, not wanting to scare him off, but also determined to help him. "I promise you can tell me. Like does this look like a judgin' face to you? Whatever it is, I'll help you. We'll fix this together, okay? Mystery twins style. It'll be okay, bro."

But Dipper only shuts his eyes and shakes his head vigorously through her comfort speech, gripping a fistful of his curly bangs against his forehead. " _No_ , it won't."

"How can you know that unless you—"

"—You don't get it, Mabel! _Nothing_ about this is fucking okay!"

She can't remember the last time he raised his voice at her like that. Mabel wrings her hands, her voice thick. "Dipper, you're really freaking me out here, can you please just tell me what's wrong? Let me help you, please. Please?"

At first he doesn't respond at all, still clearly caught up in some raging inner battle with himself that she can't see or hear. But finally, Dipper opens his eyes, letting out a miserable, frustrated exhale; all of a sudden it occurs to her how _exhausted_ he looks. He stares exclusively at his ratty old sneakers, beginning to mutter in a low tone, so quiet it's hard to even hear him. "I… ugh, please don't hate me… but I think I. Um. I… shit, this is insane, I-I can't say this to your face."

"It's okay, Dipper," she soothes, trying to hide how much he's scaring her, wondering what the heck he meant by that. Wanting more than anything to bound forward and wrap him up a big ol' panda bear hug, but afraid he'll reject her again, she stays where she is. "Take your time, I'm not goin' anywhere."

"Like I don't even know… how this happened? But—like I might—be sort of uh… this is so fucked _up,_ I don't know why I'm telling you this, what the fuck, man—"

It's honestly like a train wreck she can't look away from. He's just stuttering, looking like he's on the verge of hyperventilating, stuttering and then harshly berating himself and then stuttering again. It's like he's actually physically incapable of getting out the words.

"—Okay! Okay. Fuck it. Look, this is completely crazy and me telling you this is probably like the dumbest thing I'll ever do, and you're probably going to hate me for it, but I don't think I can…" He shakes his head, that crumbled, near broken expression creeping back onto his face, "I can't… not tell you anymore. So uh. Here goes. So, lately I've been – u-um –" He's blushing. A _lot_. Mabel raises an eyebrow, beyond confused at this point. She's starting to feel like a total dumbbell for still being completely in the dark about the nature of the truth bomb he's attempting to drop. Dipper swallows hard, takes a deep breath, and starts over. "Mabel, I've sort of been wanting to tell you for a while that I… I think I'm… uh…" His hand balls up into a fist, tapping against his thigh as he tries to force himself to just be done with this tortuous train wreck already. It taps and taps and taps, but… nothing. He seems to have hit an internal word limit. Nothing's coming out.

Dipper exhales despondently, hanging his head in defeat.

"…You think you're what?" Mabel asks, glancing off to the side and back at him. She didn't mean for her voice to come out quite that softly.

He doesn't answer. But Mabel nearly has to take a step back when he eventually lifts his eyes to hers, his expression completely serious, his jaw set, something burning hard and wild and alive in his stare. Jeez. It's feels like it's about to bore right through her. She feels a tiny jolt in her chest, her world thrown just an inch or two off balance. Mabel racks her brain, trying to figure out _why_ she's having such a drastic reaction to only a look, before the lightbulb moment hits.

It's because she's never seen it. She doesn't even recognize it. It's coming from the guy who's given her a bazillion different kinds of looks over the course of their lives, good and bad and everything in between, but never this one.

Mabel swallows, wanting to break her eyes away, but for whatever reason can't bring herself to do it. And Dipper just keeps right on starin'.

Nope, he's definitely never looked at her like _this_ before.

"…Dip? What's the deal, bro?"

Once again, no answer. Instead he starts shuffling over to her, his face a strange mix of anxiety and resigned determination, until he's close enough that Mabel is forced to look up slightly to properly see his face, even though he's only a couple inches taller. Uhh, is there some supernatural force at work here that she's not aware of? When did the vibes in this room get so heavy?

He bites his bottom lip, taking one last tiny half-step forward. And yep. It's official. He's definitely all up inside her personal bubble right now. Er. Usually she's the personal-bubble-invading twin, not Dipper. Dipper's the one who jokingly complains and pushes her away after indulging her a little. But when Mabel _does_ go in to grab him up in a hearty sister-squeeze, she certainly doesn't do it like _this_ —all silent and with all this eye contact and loaded silence n' stuff. Mabel's heartbeat speeds up significantly, warmth creeping into her face, because it hits her that this doesn't feel like it's leading to a good ol' sibling hug. Or, dare she say it, any sort of hug at all.

Jeez. Uh. She should probably say something, since it doesn't look like he's going to be the one to do it and things are gettin' a _little_ weird here… but the inwardly floundering girl can't seem to find her voice.

Suddenly everything starts moving in super fast motion, way, way too fast for her tastes—Dipper's face moves in closer and closer and she can see his eyes closing and then his nose brushes hers, and huh, she's never really noticed how dang long his eyelashes are before right this second, and— _wait_ wait wait, he's not actually about to do what it absolutely looks like he's about to do, is he? He wouldn't. He wouldn't! Psh, that'd just be flat out craycray _ca-rayy-zayy_ with a capital—

…Oh _._

But then he does.

It's super hesitant at first. Not much more than a tiny brush of lips. But it's still enough to make Mabel's heart leap into her throat and stick there. She's so stunned that it doesn't even occur to her to nip this madness in the bud and lurch away; nope, she can only stand there with her eyes wide open, arms limp at her sides, while her brother kisses her.

Dipper seems to take the fact that she hasn't run away screaming yet as a roundabout sign of encouragement, or a boost of morale, or something, because suddenly his lips grow bold and pressing, fitting themselves much more snugly onto hers, his head tilting. There's a faint prickling sensation on her chin from the peach fuzz on his. One of his hands reaches out to take up hers in a shy grip, and his is crazy sweaty and—okay yup, yeah, this just plain _strange_ , where the heck did this come from, w-what is going _on_ …?

The seconds tick-tick-tick on by, aaand it's still happening. Mabel is starting to seriously wonder _why_ it's still happening, why she _hasn't_ run away screaming yet, because the weirdness has breached maximum code-red-alert levels (which is saying something, since due to things like dating gnomes stacked on top of other gnomes and fighting 3-sided dream demons, her personal weirdness meter extends much further than your average 17-year-old girl's).

Maybe it's because, apart from being, y'know, _majorly_ weirded out and baffled, her brain is just a _teensy_ bit curious? It's just—well, usually by this point in a kiss she's used to having a pushy tongue already having wriggled its way in her mouth. After all, that's what pretty much all of the boys she's kissed over the years did (or more like _do_ , since Aiden is admittedly included in this group most of the time), and it's not like she ever _minded_ , but… Dipper doesn't do any of that. She just… she can't help but notice. There's no pushiness, no slobber, no slightly awkward or overbearing moves that pull her out of the moment.

Rather, Dip's technique is more sorta—maybe natural, is the right word for it? Yeah. Natural. Like… the way kisses are maybe supposed to feel, and she just never knew any better before. His mouth moves slowly and sweetly, soft little kissing noises tickling her ears as his lips part a little, then pucker, then part a little again against hers, warm and surprisingly smooth and… and uh… this is… not… terrible?

It's sorta really not terrible, actually?

Um…

Before Mabel can put too much thought into it, she may or may not be allowing her eyes to flutter shut, the distraught tension in her joints and limbs loosening. Her lips might not be _totally_ lifeless against Dipper's anymore… they might even move a little, returning some of the gentle pressure. And underneath all the churning shock, something that feels suspiciously like butterflies begin to stir up in her tummy.

Yeah, thaaat's uh… that's definitely a butterfly or two flappin' around in there…

…Wait, _what?!_

Mabel's eyes fly open, her dazed reciprocation dropping off as she's abruptly T-boned by a speeding truckload of reality.

Umm, hello in there?! Attention all Mabel brain personnel, like a million seconds have passed and _your brother is still kissing you!_ And was she really just kissing him _back?_ Ugh! What the holy heck is she doing! What is _he_ doing! What is anyone doing anymore!

Right before a total freak out ensues, _(the one that should've happened as soon as this whole twin-brother-kissin'-you debacle started, Mabel!)_ Dipper lets their lips gradually part with a quiet smacking noise that resonates unnervingly loud in her ears. He backs away, far enough to give her room to breathe, but doesn't let go of her hand. His dark brown eyes flit searchingly back and forth between hers, but Mabel's eyes are glazed over, far away, her mind fallen right back into _woah there_ mode.

Uhhh, Dipper just kissed her. Dipper just kissed her? Dipper just kissed her. Her and Dipper just kissed. Okay then. Wait, not okay then, that was just— _malfunction_ , _malfunction_ , _Mabel central processing command center doesss not compute—!_

She can only stare vacantly at him, a little out of breath, her cheeks flushed, her head spinning. Alright. Okay! Now then. Next comes the part where Dipper starts laughing and tells her he was only kidding. That this was just a jerky prank (much, much jerkier and weirder than she's used to from him, no matter how much of a jerk he's been lately) to get her back for calling him out on everything. Dipper always has been pretty horrible at pranking. Yep. Now's that time.

Come on. Aaany minute now, Dip.

Mabel waits, and waits, and _waits_ for him to do this, or anything like it. But he doesn't. And he's still so _close_ to her. And his eyes are still half-lidded. And he's still got that… look in them. Oh dear. Ohh man.

Her eyes leave his to blankly drop down to his lips. The weirdly soft ones that were all up on hers only moments ago. She feels a little. Woozy. Her poor, bewildered brain experiencing severe technical difficulties. She really can't process what just happened. And on top of all that, her stupid, dumb heart is doing this skippy, fluttery thing that's got her alllll off kilter, and _thaaat_ is just alarming.

She's been staring at his mouth for way too long. Crud. Dipper must have noticed. She hears him whisper, " _Mabes,_ " at the same time feeling him maneuver their joined hands around so he can tentatively inch his fingers between hers. The combination has a bit of a needle-full-of-adrenaline-to-the-chest effect on her, and Mabel finally wakes up from her little stupor, her eyes snapping back up just in time to catch Dipper's eyelids fall the rest of the way closed, his head tilting… holy dang cheese louise, this kid is leaning in again, and fast. _Wha_ —he's going to kiss her _again?_ So does this mean that first one officially _wasn't_ just a really bizarre and not-actually-that-funny-at-all joke?

 _Uhhhm—!_

Just before their lips can connect a second time, Mabel's head jerks backwards, her lips tightly pursed, the palm of the hand he's not holding darting up to lightly push back on his chest. She hurriedly squeaks out the words, tiny and fumbling, "um, no no, canwemaybenot, um—"

Oh god. It's hard for her not to cringe deeply at the soul-crushing levels of awkwardness that ensue. Dipper's reaction is instant, his eyes springing back open, his eyebrows shooting up as high as they'll go. He's still mid-lean, awkwardly hovering close to her face, as what could only be described as a look of pure, terrified mortification dawns on his face. The pause lasts only two or three seconds before he drops her hand like he's just been burned and stumbles a few hasty steps backwards, his hands stuffing themselves into the pocket of his hoodie. Mabel stays put, watching him with wide eyes.

A numbing silence settles over the room, both twins stuck standing where they are, frozen. Mabel can't help but stare at her brother with a confused frown, her heartbeat still through the roof, her skin prickling with a slight case of the heebie-jeebies. Across from her Dipper just looks shaken, his eyes glued to the floor. Both of their faces are on fire, totally scarlet.

"U-um—" Mabel breaks the silence, her voice catching on that very first syllable. She gulps in an attempt to relieve her dry mouth, then tries again, speaking slowly. "…Uhh, _whaa_ … um, are y–are youuu…?"

Suddenly she's shaking her head, shuddering to herself a little, causing Dipper to flinch where he stands. "Wait, am I missing something or? What the heck was that?" Mabel very nearly tacks on a 'bro' to the end of her question, but the simple nickname that usually rolls off her tongue so naturally gets caught in her throat and swallowed back down. A horribly awkward was-supposed-to-be-a-laugh sound comes bubbling out of her mouth instead.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I—" Dipper squints at a spot somewhere off to her right, shrugging exaggeratedly. "Shit, haha, no. I was just— it didn't mean anything or anything. It's not like— I've just been really, uh— you know." He abruptly runs out of words to trip over, looking like a scared, cornered animal that's trying wayyy too hard to be casual.

"Ooh-keydoke, not sure that I do, but, uh – sooo…" Mabel is fumbling hard, too. She's not equipped to handle this, whatever _this_ is. It just doesn't make any sense. The fact that Dipper kissed her, and then tried to kiss her again, is starting to _really_ sink in now, and it makes zero sense, so she's blanking hard on what questions to ask him. "…Sorry, blaghh, I'm just, a _lillll'_ bit confused right now, can ya help me out here, or…?"

"Didn't mean anything, I swear," Dipper repeats weakly, his eyes growing more and more desperate.

"Alright, I hear ya, I guess, but… I guess I'm just wondering like… whyyy? Even? In the first place? You know?" She gestures her hands around helplessly, letting out more of those weird, high pitched, not-really-laughs. Because seriously. Why did this happen? You only kiss people you _like_. Which doesn't make sense, because Dipper couldn't possibly _like_ her… she's his sister. People don't get crushes on their sisters.

It had to have been a joke. Please let it be a joke.

But she's never seen his face so red, before. And she can see the way he's wilting under her stare, sweating, looking like he wants to disappear into the floor, and… as genuinely freaked out as she is, Mabel's heart goes out to him. Her face falls as Dipper starts to frantically spew more word vomit.

"I seriously, I don't even know, Mabel, ugh, I've just been feeling so fucking out of it lately and I haven't been sleeping well and honestly, it wasn't even actually like… it's not like it was because it was _you_ , it was just that—pff I don't know. It was dumb, it was so dumb and I really, seriously didn't mean it the way you're thinking s-so, yeah, could we maybe just– "

He's trying so hard to backtrack, but… these are all lame excuses. And Mabel isn't stupid. People don't kiss their siblings like that because they're sleep deprived. The dots are finally connecting themselves, as much as she's trying to fight it.

Dang.

 _Dang_.

Yeah. Unfortunately she's got all the pieces she needs to solve this unforeseen puzzle. The kiss. The stammering, the nervousness, the weird staring, the words he could never quite get out. The reason why he's been acting so weird and distant… the cause for his irrational dislike of her boyfriend.

 _Mabel, I've sort of been wanting to tell you for a while that–_

…Oh man. Oh no.

Mabel's heart whirs faster and faster, her face hotter than ever. Her whole body feels like it's clamming up.

This is easy math, even for her. Adding it all up is just a formality. But… but maybe she doesn't want to add it up. Because the answer is just… jeez. Insane. Dipper wasn't kidding around earlier. This is insane. Suddenly she's regretting ever asking him 'why.' She doesn't want to know why. Or at least she doesn't want to hear him _say_ it. That would make it too real. It's not too late to pretend it never happened, right? If she never _officially_ adds it all up, never acknowledges it outright in her head, maybe it doesn't have to be real?

"I'm sorry, Mabel." Dipper's meek voice breaks yet another awkward silence. "I shouldn't've… I don't know why I did that. And I'm sorry, okay? So can we please just file this under things we never speak of again and— and move on?"

This is big. This is huge. This isn't something you just ignore and move on from, just like that… he can't just do this to her and then expect to… yeah. They have to talk this out. They can't just leave it like this. No matter what's, um, _going on_ with him, Dipper is still her brother, and she cares about him, and he's clearly over there drowning in shame and dread and all kinds of negative stuff, so she should probably say something at least a little bit reassuring.

But the crippling fear gets to her first, overriding her sisterly instincts. So instead Mabel shrugs, averts her eyes. "Okay," comes her short response.

Dipper blinks slowly a few times, as if he was expecting her to say something more than that. Then he shakes his head, in that signature frowny, closed-eyed way of his. "Okay… awesome. Great. Um." He's only frozen there for another couple seconds before he starts to turn this way and that, searching for something in the most discombobulated and awkward way possible, avoiding Mabel's eyes at all costs. He finally manages to find what he's looking for on his bed—his hat, which was right in front of his face the whole time—and swipes it up, jamming it down on his head, tugging the brim low over his eyes.

Mabel recognizes the habit. It's something Dipper does when he's embarrassed. When he's trying to hide. When he wants to be anywhere but where he is. There's another cruel poking sensation in her heart. But she stays quiet, staring down at the floor.

She dares one last guilty peek back up. Dipper is already backing his way towards the door, gesturing around with flustered motions. "Okay. Well I'm just gonna. Yup. Sorry," he mutters one last rushed apology, his cheeks looking like they're gonna melt right off his face, then fast walks right out of his own room.

Mabel still can't move. She stands there at the scene of the crime, staring at some point in space with a whirring heart that never seems to slow down. The sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs reaches her ears. Dazedly, she reaches up to touch her lips.

It hits her all over again. How her own brother kissed her. Inched his fingers between hers. Whispered her name in that deep, soft voice, and looked at herlike… like he…

— _Nnnope, no, bad brain, we're not thinking it out loud. Ever!_

Holy friggin dang. Holy crud Mcmuffins. Jesus Mary McJoseph—face— _whatever,_ who cares, Dipper _kissed_ her! In a boyfriend-girlfriendy way. Like a _guy_ would kiss a girl. Dipper's always been her loyal, semi-neurotic nerdy twin sibling, who also happened to be a dude. He's never fallen under the category of _guy;_ Mabel has never, ever thought of him like that before. She's never even _thought_ about thinking of him like that before, like ew, why _would_ she? But—but now he's recklessly gone and thrown himself into _guy_ standing, and _yeesh_ that's weird, weird, weird to be suddenly recognizing Dipper in _that_ way after a lifetime of knowing him, and she doesn't even _want_ to be doing it, but she can't help it, and that's infuriating and terrifying and so _bizarre_ and… _and_ …

She can't get over this. Will she ever get over this?

So many 'oh god why' thoughts invade her brain, freaking Mabel right the heck out all over again. Her brother kissed her, and she wasn't totally grossed out _(oh god, why)_. She could've pushed him away at any time, but didn't _(oh god, whyyy!)_. She _let_ that kiss happen, the whole thing from beginning to end, all ten (twenty?!) long seconds of it. She might've even, maybe, possibly… sort of liked it just a _teeny_ tiny eeny bit—

Her skin prickles and she squeaks aloud, burying her burning face in her hands.

No wait, wait, _dangit_ , she didn't just think that! She didn't she didn't she _didn't!_ There's no official record of that thought, world, you can't prove anything!

A piece of hair finding its way into her mouth, Mabel flees at last, sprinting on her toes out of Dipper's room, down the hall, and into hers. She doesn't mean to slam her door so hard, but she's a little frazzled at the moment. Clothes fly out of her closet as she seeks out her biggest, comfiest sweater, the red one with cheesy nachos printed all over it. Upon finding it she yanks it over her head, frantically seeking out its comfort, then bounds into her bed, grabbing her pig blanket on the way and wrapping it around herself like a cape. She crawls into the corner where her bed meets the wall, shimmying back into her arsenal of pillows and stuffed animals until she's almost buried, the fluffy toys providing a solid wall of protection. It's only then that she disappears into sweatertown. Deep, deep into sweatertown.

 _Ugh_. Mabel tries to think of something else, anything else other than what just happened. But she can't. It's impossible! She keeps replaying the whole thing, over and over and over, the fight, their talk, his freak out, the kiss, the deathly awkward aftermath, all of it. _Dang it,_ Dipper, what the heck! How could he do this to her! To their relationship! What was he thinking? Her eyes grow moist. This is so messed up. And _why_ , why why why did she even let that first kiss happen? Why did she have to push him so hard, until he cracked? He would never have done it if she would've just dropped the subject like, the eleventeenth time he begged her to drop it! Idiot, pushy Mabel, why can't she ever just leave well enough alone? Then they wouldn't be in this mess!

A little voice in her head starts to pester her, jabbing away at her brain. Even if she hadn't pushed him, even if none of this had ever happened.. the problem would still be there. Festering under the surface. Dipper would still… he would still have… _fe—_

 _Nope not thinking it aloud! Lalala caaaan't hear you!_

In a last ditch effort to quell her racing thoughts, Mabel's head pops out of the turtleneck of her sweater and she digs amongst her stuffed animals until she finds what she's looking for—a small white bear with a stuffed red heart stitched into its grip. A Valentine's gift from Aiden, back when they first started going out. She'd been so happy and excited when he gave it to her. Swiftly bringing the bear back with her through a stretched-out sleeve, Mabel dives back into her sweater cocoon, hugging the heart bear to her chest once she's curled up inside.

Aiden. She has to think of Aiden. Remember Aiden! Her boyfriend. Her anchor to normalcy. To a world of super-hunky dirty-blonde soccer-playing normalcy, rather than a scary upside-down world where her twin brother has some sort of weird _thing_ for her—

Her cheeks return to their former red hot state.

Aw, crap.

 _Way to go, champ! Ya thought it out loud!_

… _Ugh!_

Closing her eyes tightly, she holds the bear closer, rocking back and forth in place just a smidgeon. Nonono, Mabel. Shhh. No more thoughts about… _that._ Thinking of Aiden now, here. Her adorable boyfriend, who likes her a whole lot. Who she's gonna pass cute notes with in math tomorrow. Who said he's gonna take her out on a date Friday to a secret surprise location. And they're gonna go to prom together, be the cutest couple there. And one day they'll get married and it'll be awesome. Mrs. Mabel Zimmerman, remember?

Mabel's lips set into a tight line.

No. This isn't going to change her original plan. She's not going to let it. She can still have her dream boy. Just because her brother had to go and… and _plant_ one on her, doesn't mean she can't still have her dream boy. She _can._ This is just a… bump in the road. A test. A cruel test of fate to test her love. And her sanity. She can totally get through this. Come out on the other side with sanity and dream boy in tact.

… _And what about Dipper, huh? The guy who's stuck by your side your entire life? Where does he fit into this whole 'happy ending' ya got there?_

Her face crumbles. And then, as if she didn't already feel bad enough, the memory of soft lips pressed sweetly against hers chooses that very moment to replay in her brain theater, in vivid high definition. A wail emits from the rocking sweater lump, and it slumps on its side in a ball, defeated.

It's there that Mabel stays, wallowing in fear and uncertainty until she manages to fall into a dreamless sleep, finally freed from those gnawing, stomach-turning thoughts about boyfriends, brothers and the like… for a little while, at least.


	4. S'Gonna Be A Long Night (2nd in DB AU)

s'gonna be a long night- ruh-ruh-reeeeduxxxxx

eyyy remember this

well don't read that one anymore cos i wrote a better version. eyyyyy

just as before this story stemmed from this and this

ok that's all

 **[NSFW** (a lot more than it used to be, lmao oops) **]**

[[PS here's the prequel and the sequel]]

The door to Dipper's bedroom is much, much squeakier than Mabel remembers it ever being as she edges through it later that night. She can see her brother's head jerk in her direction from where he's lying on his back under the covers, arms crossed behind his head; she had a strong feeling he'd still be awake. Meanwhile in her head there's a giant choir of tiny Mabels that bombard her with the same question over and over ( _Uhm, what the heck d'ya think you're doing right now, Mabel?!)_. They ask her frantically, ceaselessly, like she actually knows the answer or something.

With as much conviction as she's capable of, she mentally tells the tiny Mabels to stuff it.

Shutting the door soundly behind her, Mabel performs the necessary dance it takes to reach Dipper's bed without stepping on any of the old laundry or dog-eared books or empty cereal bowls that swallow up his questionably-smelling carpet. "Hey," she says when she reaches her destination, hating how timid her voice sounds. "S'it cool if I hang in here a little while?"

Dipper raises his eyebrows, but shrugs anyway, giving her a halfhearted nod. Confusion pretty much radiates off his entire being. She doesn't blame him, since showing up in his bedroom this late at night is kind of a hardcore breach of the whole unspoken 'casually avoiding each other' arrangement-type-thing they have going on these days.

Shame blooms in her tummy, but Mabel does her best to ignore it. Lifting the blue comforter, she slips into his slightly creaky full-sized bed (same one he's had since they were six, upgrading from their tiny lil' princess castle and race car beds) just like she used to on occasion before all the weirdness went down, for late night Netflix marathons, or advice-seeking conversations, or even the rare nightmare placation. She could always come to him, and it was never weird or anything.

But tonight, the platonic distance that was always kinda naturally kept between them extends by a few solid inches. Beside her she can feel Dipper stiffen, but otherwise he doesn't move. He doesn't really look at her either, just keeps staring up at the ceiling.

Well, crudmuffins. Now that she's actually in here, right next to him, she can't for the life of her think of what to say. The longer the silence strains on, the more Mabel's chest tightens—but there must be some sort of blockage in her brain or something, because the words still aren't coming.

Dipper seems to be handling the silence just as badly as she is ('cos uncomfortable silence is just not a thing they _do)_ since he's the one who cracks first, fidgeting in his spot a safe distance away from her and clearing his throat in a way that's probably meant to be nonchalant, but just ends up coming off awkward. Dipper has never been any good at feigning nonchalance.

"…How'd your date go?" He asks finally. Mabel cringes. She knew he was probably going to ask something like this, but still held out the hope that he wouldn't, and she definitely didn't think that he'd _open_ with it. Dang it, Dip! And of course he's using his bored 'I really don't care either way' voice. On anyone else, it would work. Four days ago, it even might've worked on her. Ugh, this is so _weird_ …

Mabel takes in a breath, fifty different answers flittering around on the tip of her tongue. She hums, carefully deciding on an airy, "Could'a been better, I guess." Her hands are jittery where they clutch the blanket almost up to her chin.

"Better? Better how? What, did one of Aiden's hairs fall out of the consummate gel mold?"

 _Wow_. He really can't help himself, can he? Mabel elbows him lightly for the snark. "Can you _not_ be a butt right now, please?" She twiddles her thumbs and sighs. "His hair was sculpted perfection, thank-you-very-much." The words almost catch in her throat before she pushes them out, "…I'm… I'm the one with the problem."

By the way Dipper shifts beside her she can tell that her answer has caught him off guard. He clears his throat again, daring a glance in her direction. When he speaks, there's a twinge to his voice that gives her the sneaking suspicion that he's fighting to keep it even. "Whuh'do you mean?"

Her mouth goes dry, her tongue threatening to stick to the roof of it. Deep down she knows what she _wants_ to say. Finding it within her to actually _say_ those words to the person lying next to her is a whole 'nother dealio.

Mabel gulps, breaking away from his gaze. Inside her brain the choir of tiny Mabels shriek louder than ever. She's pretty sure one of them just flipped a table.

What are you doing! _What are you doing!_

Oh whatever, she's just gonna say it—

"Well… kiiiinda hard to enjoy a romantic date with your bee-eff when there's another dude on your mind the entire time." Mabel grumbles. "Urggg. My first official boyfriend, and it was going so _well_ …" she whines dramatically, "Ho ho, but _now_ — _ugh,_ it's like when I'm with him you're there too even though you're not, it makes stuff that used to be great icky and gross and has really thrown off my expert flirting game, _let me tell you, sir_ —" Oh, nuts and a half. She's rambling. "And don't even get me _started_ on when he kissed me earlier and instead of it being awesome and adorable the only thing going through my head was that the whole thing felt super _blaggh_ compared to— compared to—"

Something in the land of tiny panicking Mabels spontaneously sets fire and she remembers herself again. "—Ugh, just— thanks a lot, Dipper," she finishes up her rant with a sarcastic mutter before she shuts her mouth and abruptly pulls the blanket over her head, her heart beating way too fast.

Oh no. She said it. What the heck. She actually _said_ it. It's probably the most enormous can of worms she's ever chiseled open in her life, and, and great, now super slimy worms are gonna rain down all around her… or something. To be honest, she really doesn't know what to expect. This is extremely, critically, _insanely_ uncharted territory.

Dipper still hasn't said anything, and this weird anticipation-like emotion in her gut that she absolutely refuses to label as anticipation is killing her. Mabel gathers up enough courage to peek out at him from under the blanket. Of course, predictably, he looks completely bewildered and lost, eyebrows raised, cheeks darkened with red.

"Um. I'm… sorry?" Is his tentative peace offering.

She makes a show of rolling her eyes at him and huffs, fully shoving the blanket away and folding her hands tightly over her chest. All her energy at the moment gets dedicated to glaring up at the ceiling, because acting angry is so much easier than facing the root of their bizarro problem. "Yeah, well… you _should_ be."

There's another lingering silence, leaving Mabel to lie there and wonder what exactly she thought she was trying to accomplish by coming in here. Ugh, this was such a stupid plan, if you could even call it a plan, which it wasn't really at all. This was just a crazy whim that is probably gonna end badly. Stupid, _stupid_ … she should leave. Right now. She should go get back in her own bed. Her and Dipper, they can work this all out tomorrow, armed with the safety of daylight and clear-ish thinking heads. Yes. Good plan. Totally. Yeah. The tiny Mabels nod their approval.

"Mabel," she hears Dipper whisper through the dark, his deep, rasping tone catching her off guard and ruining her "plan" as quickly as it had formed. The sound of her name shatters the quiet like a rock on a severely cracked windshield, that last straw before the pressure breaks, and everything… just…

"… _W-what,"_ Mabel responds, voice catching, still attempting to be angry and sound like she has at least has an inkling of the veiled message she's been trying to communicate to her brother, but failing horribly. Then turning her head decisively on the pillow to look Dipper straight in the eye, stupidly thinking she'd be prepared for whatever she might see.

Of course, she isn't. She forgets to breathe for a second at the way he's looking at her now, the moonlight from his open blinds catching on the corners of his eyes and making them look bigger than ever.

There's fear—yep, definitely fear, and plenty of it. She can see it in the creases between his eyebrows, the tightness of his mouth, the set of his jaw.

But then, there's… there's that crazy intense _something_ that Mabel witnessed for the first time four days ago, right before Dipper leaned in and initiated that unforeseen lips-on-lips business. It's there in his eyes. The something that's pretty unnerving on one hand, but also… that she can't seem to look away from, that sends her stomach into a flip-flop frenzy. Sort of like the tummy flips Aiden will give her sometimes, but turbocharged, unpredictable, cracked out on Smile Dip. A buttload of Smile Dip.

It's most certainly not a look you're supposed to get from your brother.

Mabel bites her lip. Oof. Yeah. It's kinda written all over his face, now that she sees it. Lightheadedly, she wonders how long Dipper has been thinking about her this way. How it even came to be in the first place. And how long he's been hiding his feelings from her and everybody else, holding it all in, no one to even talk to about it. Because whatever this is, from the look in Dipper's eyes, it's not hard to tell that there's… like… _a lot_ of it.

"I…"

Dipper's non-sentence never gets finished. He blinks at her through the darkness, his eyes huge and brimming with of all sorts of things no one is saying out loud, and Mabel… just blinks back at him. She can almost hear the agonizing debate going on in that big brain of his. His head sort of twitches on the pillow in her direction, but just as quickly stills. The hesitancy is almost palpable. It's obvious her brother wants to do something, very very badly, but it's also something terrifying, something he might regret. Something that can't be taken back, once it happens. And he's desperately searching her eyes for some sort of signal on what to do, what she wants him to do, what's okay, what's not okay…. any input all.

But Mabel's expression stays blank. She feels guilty, leaving Dipper floundering like this, but she just… she just can't. Make this sort of… choice. This is all much newer to her than it is to him, she can barely keep up as it is.

Whatever happens next is up to him.

His Adam's apple bobs visibly up and down his neck, and she can see him suck in a breath. Slowly, so slowly that she almost gripes at him to just _do_ something already, Dipper leans over and kisses her cheek. He lets his lips linger for a bit, full and soft and making her heart _ba-bump ba-bump_ away in her chest.

He backs away, his eyes never leaving hers. Welp. Dipper has officially made the call, apparently unable to help himself from succumbing to that scary, unknown, this-is-totally-wrong-isn't-it route, and now that he's actually made a sort-of move, Mabel is… totally, totally lost on what to do next. She guesses she didn't actually think he'd dare go down this road, which was dumb of her in hindsight, considering he'd already sailed right over that taboo line with a running leap a few days ago. Mabel stays frozen in place, at a loss. She can't help but watch Dipper with a sort of morbid fascination as he lays there, trying his hardest to gauge her reaction _._ Most likely over-analyzing the possibilities of what could be going through her head, at the same time trying not to look too desperate.

…Yyyeahh, he's not doing a very good job with that last thing. _Aw, Dips. You big awko-taco nerd._ There's a swelling feeling in Mabel's chest at the earnest, kind of adorably insecure look on his face. Her brother is such a… ugh, such a sweet dork. Most especially to her. The sweetest and the dorkiest. Making himself all vulnerable-like, wearing his heart on his sleeve… for her. Without really thinking about it Mabel cracks a small but warm smile, reaching over to brush her palm over his burning cheek.

All she did was touch his face, but the tender action might as well have been a gunshot at the Kentucky Derby for Dipper, because _whoops—_ next thing she registers is the loud creak of the mattress from him quickly closing the distance between them with a single scooch, and a split second later his mouth is on hers. Woahwoah _woahtherebuddy_ this is so _much_ already, Dipper is kissing her like his life depends on it and once again Mabel is struggling to keep up _._ You would think the world was minutes away from exploding or something in the way he kisses so dang urgently, unyielding and full of passion that she definitely was _not_ aware he had in him ten seconds ago _._

Dipper's hand disappears into her hair, his long fingers threading through the thick locks to cradle the back of her head, and he makes this tiny breathless sound that triggers a much-too-hot clenching in her belly. Jeez. This is nothing like the sweet little kiss he gave her the other day. _This_ is heavy, _this_ is the product of someone who has decided they're not gonna hold back anymore. Or maybe he can't hold back anymore. Whichever it is, it's really hard to miss the pent-up feelings that are pretty much pouring out of the guy nonstop, and admittedly this is sorta scaring the bejesus out of her, but Mabel doesn't jerk away, doesn't flinch even once.

 _Oh-kay, this, this is definitely happening…_

Second after second ticks by, Dipper is still kissing the crap out of her, and Mabel still hasn't pushed him away, like she did four days ago… officially making their second kiss three timesas long as their first. Uh oh. While she allows her lips to mold to his, the tiny Mabels all of a sudden decide to kick back in, reeeally letting her have it this time with the screaming doubts. Ohhh man, hold up, wait a sec, this is—oh, yikes, she's making out with her _brother_ , augh, this is just totally gross and weird, right? Right? It's completely nutso bonkers! Sane, well-adjusted people don't make out with their brothers and that's that. This is going way too far, she should definitely push him away. She _needs_ to push him away. Dangit, push him away! No no no, this can't be what she came in here for, can it?!

 _But then, why_ did _you come in here, Mabel? Why'd you get into bed with him, huh, huh? Why are your arms around his neck? Why are you kissing him back?_

Well then! If this isn't just the dooziest of dilemmas she's ever gotten herself into!

Now cradling her jaw with one warm but also pretty sweaty palm, Dipper manages to push the raging conflict to the backburner when he goes and pushes his tongue in her mouth. Well! Well hey there, Dipper's tongue! What up! Never uh, never had you 'round, before… Mabel clenches her closed eyelids as their kiss quickly gets wet, and determined, and Dipper gets right down to business by doing this twirly-scoop move thing that actually makes her _moan_ against him. Mabel's eyes pop open and she flushes with embarrassment. _Woah_ there… that's never happened before with Aiden. Aiden has never made her moan.

 _Ughh, no thinking about Aiden! Bad brain! Not the time, clearly not the time!_

Being the perceptive person that he is, Dipper does it again, rolling his tongue against hers in that delectably sensual, tiny-moan-inducing way. And then again. Hot dang. If she'd been standing up instead of lying down, her knees would've buckled already. Holy mother of canoley, wha- _whaa?_ Since when does Dipper have _moves?_ Where the frick did her bro learn this stuff? He's never even had a real girlfriend before!

Dipper moves his head down to press open-mouthed kisses against her neck while Mabel grabs handfuls of the back of his t-shirt, and meanwhile the tiny Mabels are still at it, angry to have been pushed aside, yelling and screaming and pulling at their tiny heads of curly brown hair. Half of her still can't get over the madness of it all, but okay already, _fine_ , she admits it! The other half sort of doesn't want the madness to stop, ever. She's never been held or kissed quite like _this_ before and… and… stupid moral compass, stupid reality, shut up! Go away! She doesn't want to hear it, any of it, because whatever was missing from that kiss with her boyfriend earlier is suddenly right here in this room, right now, exciting and unbelievably electric, hers for the taking. A-and—and she's just made the executive decision to take it, okay? So once again, stuff it, tiny Mabels! Be gone! Away with you! You have no power here!

One of Dipper's hands begins to glide up and down her side, from her thigh all the way up to her shoulder, leaving warm tingles in its wake. It keeps solidly and safely to this fixed path until it strays off course on one of the journeys back upwards, tentatively cupping her breast through her nightshirt instead. Bizarrely enough Mabel finds herself reacting to this new development by vividly picturing the hamster glam-rock band that happens to be printed on this particular shirt of hers, the same shirt her brother now happens to be rubbing her nipple through, boy howdy, his thumb making soft, pressing circles _right_ over the gray-hamster-with-the-blonde-fringe-and-pink-electric-guitar's face, probably _—_ her breath hitches, her thighs clench _—_ haha hoookay there Mabel! Now is really not the time to be thinking about hamsters in gogo boots! _Ugh, what is wrong with you—!_

But then Dipper makes this deep, throaty noise, the sound vibrating out of his mouth and into hers, which for some reason rids her of her invasive hamster thoughts. Dang. Dip really _does_ always have her back, whether he's aware of it or not.

Now, Mabel just tries to focus on what she's feeling. What he's _making_ her feel. And… she quickly comes to the conclusion that being touched like this by him is making her…squirmy. Really squirmy. The frustratingly good, very damp kind of squirmy. So when Dipper's hand leaves her breasts to venture off and explore the curve of her lower back, she's left even squirmier—and wanting more.

She feels his fingertips trickle lower to delicately trace along the groove where her legs meet her butt, and it's really hard not to clench her thighs together, that achy need for pressure only growing stronger. The feeling frightens her a little. Mabel shudders, keeping her eyes strictly closed, kissing him harder in an attempt to squash out her fears. Dipper responds instantly, pressing in closer, breathing in sharply through his nose.

Oh, hello. And she's just realized he's on top of her. When did that happen?

There's a faraway voice somewhere inside of Mabel that says this is too much to handle at once, that things are getting too carried away, that now is probably the time to go ahead and push Dipper off of her—but instead she circles her arms back around his neck, arches her back, presses herself up against him. _Against him,_ against him. A breathy squeak of surprise—surprise, along with some other, squirmy emotion—slips from her mouth when she feels how hard he is through his boxers. Oh. _Oh._ Well. What was she expecting to feel? The surprise dies away but her heart still beats faster from knowing that she, Mabel, got him that way. Like, man. Dipper… wants her. Like _that_. It finally sinks in. He _wants_ her.

She can't help it. She does the first thing that pops into her head, and grinds on him. Just a little bit. Maybe it was instinct. Who knows. Dipper seems to be A-ok with it anyway, cursing and stuttering her name, not bothering to hide the desire in his voice anymore.

 _Just-a-little-bit_ turns into _oops-I-can't-seem-to-stop_ , because this feels stupid good, this feels like what she needs right now. And he's so into it too, so into _her,_ and it shows, and Mabel realizes she likes that _—_ uhhhshe never thought she'd be using the word sexy in reference to her brother ever in her life, even just in her head, but heyhowdyhey looks like there really is a first time for everything—so no, no stopping, sorry, tiny Mabels.

She kisses his neck. Then licks it. His skin is all hot and sweaty and salty. She wants to bite it, so she does, taking some of his skin between her teeth and sucking hard, hips still grinding away. Dipper drops his head and whimpers, high and gravelly against her ear, "Mabes holy _shit,_ " hisvoice cracking a little. Regular Mabel would probably have poked fun at him for that, but she doesn't feel quite like Regular Mabel right now. Now she only moans into his skin, the sound rousing more breathy curses out of Dipper. By this point it doesn't even really feel like she's inside her own body anymore, she's just… consumed. Totally consumed by this heated urgency between her and her twin that came rocketing out of left field.

"H-holy fuck, oh my god, Mabel…"

The tiny Mabels are weak and feeble by this point – even more so when Dipper starts to rub his excited-boy-biz back against her with firm little rolls of his hips, hooooly bananas – but they are still determined to pester her until their dying breaths. _But wait,_ they murmur frantically, _this is Dipper! Remember Dipper? Your twin bro? Bro, as in brother, as in family, as in related to you?!_ Howww did things escalate to here, again? She can't recall. At its core, the her-plus-Dipper equation still doesn't make sense. If this was a long time comin', nobody ever stopped to let Mabel in on that little fact.

None of this makes sense, but it's like her body and her brain have decided to run away without her, too fast for her to keep up. Honestly, Mabel doesn't super care about keeping up anymore. She's a little preoccupied by how the air in Dipper's bedroom feels like it's coming to a boil. All this kissing and grinding is reaching some sort of peak. Whoops. The point of no return has already been passed, hasn't it? For both of them.

Suddenly Dipper is wordlessly sitting up, reaching back to tug his shirt over his head. Mabel follows his lead and scrambles to take off hers too, her fingers jumpy as they grab the purple hem and pull—hasta la vista, glam-rock hamsters—by the time she gets it off Dipper has moved to her side, and in a mutual flurry of clothing, Mabel frantically shimmies out of her penguin pajama pants and the pink heart undies she wears for good luck on dates, while Dipper practically rips down his faded plaid boxers, kicking them down his legs and out of sight.

Once all the clothes are tossed away, the twins turn back to each other and there's a bit of a halt to the mania, as if someone pointed a remote at the two of them and hit pause. Mabel's cheeks explode with color, her heart pounding. Thaaat's… wow. Yep. That sure is definitely Dipper's dipstick right there. Sorta pointing right at her. No coming back from that one, no-siree. Yeah it's dark in his room but _still_ , it's not _that_ dark, and she's seeing her brother naked for the first time since they were cute little toddlers who still took baths together, aaand a _heck_ of a lot has changed since then, and uh, this is very… different. The piece of Mabel's brain that still thinks this is all really heckin' weird flares back up. She can see Dip obviously staring too, his mouth hanging open a little, and wonders if he's having similar thoughts about her.

But then his gaze flicks up and they make eye contact—burning, intoxicating eye contact—and as quick as the awkward pause came, it's gone. The invisible remote-wielding entity has pressed play again, allowing Dipper to surge forward and kiss her like he really means it, allowing Mabel to kiss him right back. Looks like it's just not heckin' weird enough for either of them to flip the kill switch on what's inevitably in the works here, because now he's guiding her down to the bed and crawling back over her, and she sure isn't stopping him.

Reflexively she spreads her legs, and Dipper gladly shifts down to settle in between them, carefully covering her body with his. Mabel shivers, gooseflesh breaking out on her arms, because now all _his_ skin is on _her_ skin and she can _feel_ him, tentatively pressing up against a very sensitive spot that no one but her has ever touched before. He feels really warm and hard and foreign, and there's no denying that her body is straight up throbbing at the contact, almost shaking with excited-but-also-sorta-panicky anticipation— oh man, oh _man_ is this really actually happening? Are they actually gonna go _through_ withthis? They are, aren't they? Seriously, what? _What?!_

Dipper closes his eyes and begins to press more of those longing kisses along her neck before he freezes suddenly, dropping his forehead to her shoulder and cursing under his breath.He mutters an apology and stammers out that he doesn't have a condom, sounding weirdly embarrassed about it considering this whole Friday night bro-sis hookup was definitely not a _planned_ thing (oh god, it hits her again, _we're not kidding around here he's bringing up condoms this really is happening_ ).

Mabel takes in a deep breath, exhaling shakily. _Last chance,_ the back of her brain screams at her from far, far away, _abort abort abort—_ her mouth is a little dry when she makes a split-second decision and tells him it's fine, she's been on the pill since she was fifteen 'cause of bad period cramps. Dipper responds with a vaguely surprised "oh," before falling silent, his face still sort of hidden in her neck.

The silence stretches out just a tad too long. Mabel shifts awkwardly underneath him, hyperaware of the way she can feel his body throbbing, too, how she can feel it every time he twitches. Her hands rest very lightly on the surface of Dipper's skin, just above his hips, as the oh-so-casual contraceptive talk and silence combo has slightly thrown off her groove, and she can't figure out where the heck to put them all of a sudden (resting them on the bed felt way too limp and weird). Her large brown eyes dart from the ceiling to the closed bedroom door to the curve of his backside that she can see from this angle past his shoulder, before they hurriedly dart back up to the ceiling.

Finally Dipper breaks the silence with a shortly-worded whisper, his voice much softer and croakier than before; he sounds _so_ freaking nervous which only makes her even _more_ nervous. Mabel automatically whispers something back that hopefully sounds placating enough, because the stillness and the quiet are really starting to bother her, and the nerves are threatening to overwhelm the squirminess, and she just needs for things to get _moving_ again—

And then—and _then_ — fingers are inching between hers on the pillow and holding tight, hips carefully pressing down, and the whole thing is a slow burn of heat and slickness and gradual pressure until Mabel feels fuller than she's ever felt before in her entire life — full of need, desperation, confusion, _him_.

 _Oh god, o-ohgodohgodholysh–_

Dipper keeps still, shuddering a hushed, strangled exhale into her hair, while Mabel feels like the voice has been stricken out of her, her mouth open but no sound coming out. She feels him squeeze her hand, kiss her cheek. More whispers come, hot against her ear– this time he's asking if she's okay. Mabel nods her head quickly, freeing a heavy breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Utterly overwhelmed, she just keeps her eyes shut tight and clings to his narrow back when he eventually starts to move gingerly, honest to god incapable of doing anything more than that.

The land of tiny screaming Mabels has gone deathly silent. Now, Mabel hears nothing but labored breathing in her ear, a breathy moan that she thinks might've started out as her name. The slow, steady creaking of his bed frame. Her own breathing, loud and ragged and losing control fast.

She can feel how careful Dipper is trying to be with her, his body and limbs holding in the tension it takes for him to move this painstakingly slow. Which she really is grateful for, and if she wasn't so one-thousand-percent preoccupied with their current activity she'd glomp-hug him, infinitely appreciative that she didn't have to ask; it's stopped being uncomfortable, at least, but she's still getting used to the feeling.

Dipper props himself up on his hands, his gentle rhythm never faltering as he bends to press their lips together for a kiss, one that starts off sweet and slow but soon turns into something hot and maybe a little sloppy. They break apart with a gasp. Mabel cracks her eyelids open just in time to catch the hazy, adoring, almost tipsy look in her brother's eyes before he slowly kisses his way across her cheek, then down her neck. His lips head steadily south, leaving little nibbles here and there. She clenches her eyes closed again.

She knows it's coming but her breath still hitches audibly when he brings his mouth down on her nipple and goes about doing these spine-tingling sucking motions, his tongue flicking and swirling with a vengeance. Mabel presses her lips tightly together to stifle the high pitched sound rising in her throat, overwhelmed as ever; Dipper hums a quiet moan into her skin. He switches to give her other breast the same attention, while his fingers trace along every inch of her skin he can reach, eager and restless. Mabel breathes harder, her rainbow polish-chipped nails clawing at his shoulder blades before dragging their way up into his bushy hair.

 _God_. And his hips never stop _moving_. As slow and steady as Dipper keeps the pace, as attentive and doting as all his movements are, it all still has Mabel writhing, her thighs starting to tremble noticeably, her fists gripping handfuls of his hair. It's so _hard_ to stay relatively still and quiet while also staying sexy and _normal_ because every time she feels him push inside, it makes her want to wiggle, full-body shiver, thrash back against his bed like a person trying to get out of a straitjacket. Whatever she's feeling right now is intense, and way too friggin' _real_ and… it's starting to maybe feel like a little too much–

Oh god, it _is_ , all of this is too much, _way_ too much, wave after wave of pure sensation knocking her down on her metaphorical butt every time she tries in vain to get back on her feet. On her feet, steady, where things make sense.

"Di—Dipper," Mabel whimpers, in need of some sort of an anchor, because she feels like she's going to float away, or burst into pieces, or maybe both? At her call he returns to her at once, resting his forearms on either side of her contorted face. He leans down, his sweaty forehead coming to press against her own, hot, heavy breaths mixing between them. His curly bangs hang down around her face, cocooning them in, shielding her from everything that exists outside of the two of them.

Dipper tilts his head to gently kiss her parted lips before he moves back, just far enough for their eyes to meet. The _it's-okay-I've-got-you_ look on his face makes Mabel feel safe and comforted enough to re-grasp some semblance of control and think coherent thoughts again, like… how _great_ it feels, actually, to be so loved, warm, wanted… how no one has ever made her feel like this before. And right here in this moment, the fact that it's _Dipper_ introducing her to all these new feelings, loving her so unquestionably, somehow feels more right than anything. Her and her twin, just the two of them, just like it's always been. It suddenly seems so fitting that she ended up sharing this moment with him, rather than someone else.

A burst of appreciation and _want_ for her brother streaks through her from head to toe. It has Mabel tightening her arms around his neck, pulling him down into the most searing kiss she's ever given to anybody, _ever_. It has her bucking up her hips, over and over until the boy in her arms starts to tremble, choking out muffled grunts and heavy breaths against her mouth as he twitches and pulses inside her. She holds him there, keeping him as still as she can, needing to feel every tiny convulsion Dipper's body makes as he falls completely apart. The experience is unrestrained, and profoundly intimate, filling her to the brim with a heavy emotion she's too riled up to try to name.

When Dipper finally relaxes, the first thing he does is properly kiss her back again (right after he heaves out a breathless _"Holy shit,"_ —eyy, not too shabby, Mabel-girl). One soft, appreciative peck leads to another, his intensity quickly escalating into another outpouring of passionate kisses, overwhelming Mabel to the point where a super-squirmy sound comes quietly keening out of her mouth.

Dipper moves back, breathing heavily. He must finally register the way her body still hums and fidgets underneath him, since that classic 'determined Dipper' look comes over his face, and he pulls out and rolls off to her side. He runs a hand up her thigh before easing it between her legs, and Mabel closes her eyes and lets her head lay back into the pillow, her breathing slowly-but-surely turning ragged again.

His technique is a little clumsy at first. Still feels nice, and seriously not bad for someone who's more than likely totally new at this, but after a minute or so the almost-there frustration gets Mabel to lay her hand on top of Dipper's and guide him into what she wants. The best she can, at least. Luckily her brother is nothing if not a very intuitive, and _eager,_ learner. Soon he's figured out how to touch her in a way that gets her squirming beside him, tiny gasps squeaking out of her with every other breath she takes. Mabel finally lets go of the _gotta-stay-cute-and-sexy_ impulse that's been buzzing around in the back of her mind and loses herself in how good it feels, her body wiggling however it dang well pleases, her features twisting up into undoubtedly weird faces, legs shaking and spazzing. One hand fists the sweat-dampened bed sheets, while the other grips desperately around his forearm, shakily holding him in place right above his working wrist in an unspoken plea for him not to stop or slow down. She doesn't have to say a word, he willingly obliges her, despite the fact that his wrist is starting to tremble.

She just barely registers Dipper softly asking if she's close. If speaking words was currently on the table, she would've said _duhh ya dork,_ but right now Mabel can only nod faintly.

It was not a lie. Barely another ten seconds pass before she's clenching hard under those diligent, probably-cramped fingers, her back arching, mouth opening wide. Even with her own eyes sealed shut, seeing nothing but stars on the backs of her eyelids, she can still feel his eyes glued on her, watching her unravel. She has to bite back the moan that wants to rip from her throat, but some of it still manages to escape in the form of a soft, warbling squeak.

Eventually her spine goes straight again, falling back to the mattress, a bit of reality crashing down with it.

 _Woah_. That… _hoo_ , boy, that just happened. Her and… her and _Dipper_ just… and it felt _good_. Amazing, even.

Oh man. She can't really get over this, as her first go at sex was most definitely _not_ on her to do list when she woke up this morning. And sex with her brother? Not even within a zillion feet of the to do list. But yikes, nuts to the to do list, apparently. 'Cause it just happened anyway. The can of worms she opened earlier that night turned out to be much, much bigger than she could have ever anticipated. Super, uh. Super, super wormy. Yup.

Bright red and breathing hard in the aftermath, her eyes still closed and her head spinning, Mabel feels the brother in question sidle up to kiss her forehead. She calls it in her head a second before it happens—and sure enough, a second later, his mouth is back on hers.

Maybe she's still got a major case of floaty-brain from her orgasm or something—it _was_ one heck of a big o—because at first she just lies there, motionless aside from the rise and fall of her chest, while his lips affectionately skate and press over hers. It's only when Dipper glides his tongue along her bottom lip in a prodding, 'heyy, I'm here' sort of way that it occurs to her to kiss him back. Which, to her credit, she does right away, opening her mouth, bringing a hand to the back of his head to pull him closer.

They break apart. She can feel him hovering near her face a bit longer before he moves to sit up, and it's only then that Mabel blearily opens her eyes.

Once again she's greeted with the reality of Dipper's dark, cluttered bedroom, bits of moonlight trickling in through the crookedly hanging blinds. She foggily looks over to where her very naked brother is hunched over and rummaging around near the foot of his bed. He grabs up a clean-looking white t-shirt from a pile of clothes, always the man with the plan.

Dipper turns back around, shirt in hand, pausing when he sees her watching him. His eyes are sleepy and warm, his brown curls sticking up every which way, thanks to her own restless hands. He gives her a tender look, his head tilting a tiny bit to one side. His lips stretch into a shy, lopsided, entirely radiant smile.

Oh… wow.

Mabel swallows, her stomach fluttering like crazy. She's not entirely sure if she's ever looked at her bro quite the way she did just now.

Dipper crawls back to her side, only half trying to avoid her eyes as he gently cleans her up. The temperature of the room is quickly returning to normal, but Mabel barely has it in her to blush at his bashfully doting work, still floating along on the afterglow high. He gets the job done fast, balling up the shirt further and mopping up the sheets. When it's the best it's gonna get, he chucks away the sticky garment, throws his comforter over the two of them, and doesn't hesitate to wrap her up in an embrace, taking her hand and curling himself against her back to spoon her.

The room gets very still and very quiet, and neither of them have said anything yet. Is that weird? Mabel bites her lip. It feels kind of weird, for them. Although these are, uh, special circumstances. This is some brand spankin' new territory for her and the Dipster, _that's_ for sure.

If she's being completely honest with herself, being held by her brother like this feels a little odd. A nice n' warm, 'huh, well that's new,' kind of odd, but still… odd. Having someone you've known your whole life suddenly treat you differently has a bit of a topsy turvy effect, and now that they're not all caught up in that super charged, gotta-get-into-each-other's-pants- _now_ heat between them, Mabel can't help but be hyperaware of it. The straight up _romance_ thing.

Like, they've held hands jillions of times, but never like this, with their fingers all tightly twined together, his thumb stroking her knuckle every so often. And the way he's got his arms around her with all this skin-on-skin is lightyears away from any hug they've shared before, awkward sibling kind or not. It's just a very novel kind of weird, because before tonight, aside from that one little sweet but hecka awkward kiss a few days ago—which he took right back anyway, after she shot him down—Dipper has only ever treated her like Mabel-who-is-his-sister. Before tonight, he's never treated her like Mabel-who-is-a-girl.

They've also never bumped uglies before tonight, buuut, that one pretty much goes without saying.

Mabel can feel Dipper's chest pressing into her back when he breathes in a content sigh. He takes his time with it, exhaling slowly through his nose. Relief might as well be written in the action in glaring capital letters. His lips move to her shoulder, where he plants a few slow kisses, just like the guy lead would during the post-saucy parts of all her most favorite romcoms. Just like a boyfriend would. Or a lover (blah, _lover_ , she's not mature enough for that word). Consequently Mabel has to keep reminding herself that that's _Dipper_ , behind her. Her bro-bro, her broseph, her loyal broticus maximus. Her fellow mystery twin, her partner in crime, the Dippinsauce to her Mabelfries, yadda yadda yadda. Her sweet, nerdy, five-minutes-younger brother. Not boyfriend. Not lover. Brother.

Or—maybe—could he be both? Is that even possible?

 _Well_ , she thinks, her skin glowing with heat again, _technically, he just proved that._

But… just because she _could_ have him as both (maybe? She doesn't know), doesn't mean she should. Everything she's learned so far in life says that obviously, that would be wrong. Like… right? It's the ol' big I. Incest. Wrong. Creepy, gross, unnatural, not recommended. Everybody knows that. Doi. It's not a hard concept to grasp.

Mabel bites the inside of her cheek uneasily. Well, at least before the other day, it wasn't… psh, it was as graspable as night and day. Easy-peasy. And not even a thing that crossed her mind anyway. But then one day, whaddya know, she got in a fight with her brother about him being a withdrawn jerk whenever her boyfriend was around, which culminated in him kissing her, on the lips, out of _nowhere_ , in a very un-brotherly fashion… and she became the tiniest bit less sure. And now… _now_ she's all naked and cuddly with her brother in his bed, after a doing a bunch of stuff with him that would probably squick the heck outta the vast majority of like, _everybody_ , and, um, she is much, much less sure about the concept…

Okay, she's one-hundred-percent less sure, because just going and stamping a big, red 'wrong' label on it means that everything that just happened between her and Dipper was wrong. All of it. Wrong. Creepy, gross, unnatural, not recommended.

And… and it's so _hard_ to call it that, any of that. Not when it felt so meaningful and nice (actually nice is putting it too lightly, more like wow-wowee-wowness squared, cubed), not when Mabel feels so safe and content tucked away with him now, warm fuzzies all around.

…Ugh. Complicated moral junk is really not her forte.

Mabel is only going around in circles at this point, and it's late, and she's tired, and in the moment it still feels nice, lying here all cuddled up with Dipper. So she tries her best to push the daunting questions out of her mind. Luckily, behind her Mr. HappyPants (okay he's not wearing pants… details) is radiating happy so purely and obviously that he might as well be bonking her over the back of the head with it. She's gotta admit the feeling is adorably contagious, making caring about whatever's gonna happen tomorrow less and less of a priority.

She yawns, snuggling back against him, and he gladly holds her closer, kissing her shoulder again. Forget tomorrow. Right now all she wants is to fall asleep to the feel of his arms around her in this suddenly super-duper comfy bed…

"Mabel?"

Mabel's eyes shoot open, automatically fixating on the first thing she sees—a Nirvana poster on the opposite wall—almost as if she's afraid to look at anything else. That was the first word either of them have said since it happened… her name. Scratchy, hushed and shy.

Why does she feel so nervous all of a sudden?

"Mmhm…?"

"…I love you."

Oh. _That's_ why.

Mabel's shoulders go rigid. Her skin prickles. A cold feeling overtakes her, iciness flooding through her body and stamping out the comfortable warmth that had been simmering all over a moment ago. Oh no. No, no, no. Something tells her that Dipper ain't talkin' about good old fashioned brotherly love. Nope, definitely not.

And that wasn't him 'fessing up to having a crush on her, either. She's probably a complete moron for ever thinking that this was something in crush territory, huh.

The icy feeling rises higher and higher, closing in over her head, drowning her.

He loves her. He _loves_ her.

Well— well, _duhh_ , of course he does, Mabel you dunderhead, why _else_ would he have—he wouldn't've just— oh no, oh gosh, why does this declaration of love suddenly make everything so scary and real?

He's… _Dipper_ is…

 _Ugh_ , _just—!_ Hold up, time out, life, can you please stop getting more and more complicated for like _one freakin second!_ Because there is some _serious_ drownage going on over here! What… what is she supposed to do with this information? Why is he telling her this? What is he expecting her to say to that?

 _Aw fudge, Mabel, don't even try that shiz. You know_ exactly _what he's expecting you to say, especially after what just went down on the sheets–or what he really wants you to say, at least, but– but–_

Christ on a cracker, she didn't sign up for this. And it's—ugh, it's totally not his fault, she's just a total, _total_ idiot who clearly didn't think this through, but— _gah_ , and she _knows_ him, she _knows_ that even though Dipper is acting calm and quiet and his arms are still around her, he's majorly freaking out inside his head, questioning everything, a piece of his crazy-neurotic paranoid soul dying with each and every second that passes while she still hasn't said anything. Oh crap oh crap she has to _say_ something, like, _now_ , but nothing is coming to mind. Nothing at all. And that easily makes Mabel feel like the most horrible piece of poo-garbage on the face of the Earth.

She takes in a shallow breath, frantically trying to piece it all together. Okay, okay, so Dipper's side of the story is all out in the open now. He, uh, _loves…_ h-he's in love with her. Apparently. Somehow. But how does _she_ feel? Obviously the sisterly and best-friend love is there, bright and clear to her as day, vast and steadfast as ever. That'll _always_ be there.

And—okay _yeah_ , she can't deny that a large part of her, um… _enjoyed_ this sorta random burst of offbeat intimacy between them, but… does all of that mean she's… does she actually…?

Aiden's smiling face flashes in her mind's eye and Mabel is struck with the overwhelming urge to curl into a ball and wail.

 _Love_. Aw, heck. What would she even know about love, anyway?! A few days ago, she was five-hundred-percent sure that love was about dreamy blue eyes and matching boutonnieres and corsages, complete with a dumb fairytale ending where she and her adorable picture-perfect boyfriend get married and ride off into the sunset on horseback!

She wants to cry, she's _going_ to cry, because she can't do it. She can't fill in her side of the Mabel-plus-Dipper thing. She can't tell him what she knows he's hoping to hear, that big ol' loaded statement of 'I love you too, Dipper,' because—because she'd never lie to him about something huge like this, and… she doesn't think it's true.

 _Ugh_ , but she can't break his heart, either… for cryin' out loud, this is Dipper! The person she cares for the most out of anyone else in the whole world—

Her eyelids squeeze shut, tears gathering fast beneath them. H-heyy, uh, magic remote-wielding entity guy, help a girl out with a rewind button here—except oh wait, there _is_ no rewind button, because this is real life and the time-traveling measuring tape was confiscated a long time ago, and she can't take it back, she can't take any of it back—does she even want to take it back…? Uh, well— _well_ —if it means _not_ accidentally leading on her twin brother in the most gut-wrenching way possible, and probably funking up their relationship forevermore, then, sorta, yeah! Most certainly yes!

Oh, _why did she come in here!_ Seriously, what in the heck did she think was going to happen!

She didn't think. That's the problem. She didn't think at _all,_ not even a little bit. Her date with Aiden had left her so strangely disappointed and confused, and she was feeling sad and lonely, and bummed about how awkward this week had been between her and Dip, and she was missing her brother, and that friggin kiss had popped into her head for the millionth time, and she had a drive-by itch to go see if he was awake, so she did. Dipper was right all those times he's said it before, dangit, she never thinks things through!

And now, because of her, someone is going to get hurt… the most important someone.

Mabel sniffs audibly, her eyes fluttering open again, eyelashes clumped together with dewy little droplets. The smiley face on the Nirvana poster feels like it's mocking her, with its stupid tongue sticking out and its stupid exes for eyes. Silently telling her what a stupid, silly idiot she is.

 _Hey stupid silly idiot!_ _He did all that stuff with you because he's in love with you, stupid silly idiot! Duh!_ _And you did it with him because… why, exactly? Because you were feeling weird about that kiss and bummed about your lame date? Because he was making you feel good and wanted and you were ridin' the moment and decided what the hey why not? Yikes, good luck figuring out a way to tell him that! The guy who freaking loves you! Who is also your own freaking brother! PS, you're a disgusting, horrible person!_

A couple of thick tears escape Mabel's watering eyes, dripping sideways down her face and disappearing into the pillow. Her stomach gives a nasty lurch. She feels sick.

Dipper has let go of her hand. The arms around her waist are loose and plagued with doubt. The former head-bonking happiness has been completely snuffed out, like the happiest ant in the world getting suddenly squished under a giant, inconsiderate shoe. By now he's most certainly figured out that shaky shoulders and sniffling and long periods of silence are all very bad signs after you've just told someone you _love_ them. And she knows the crying has him convinced that he messed up badly, unforgivably badly, which is bogus and terrible and the complete opposite of the truth. She can practically feel his heart shattering from where his chest is still touching her back, and the urge to burst into much louder tears hits Mabel hard. No, no! She can't do this, she can't let this happen, not to Dipper–

"Wait, Mabes, I didn't—are y—were you not—" his voice is tiny and hoarse, his breath starting to leave him in short, panicking gasps, his arms shrinking away from her, "oh god, _Mabel_ , I-I'm _so_ —"

Before he can dive into whatever depressing apology speech he was on the verge of stammering out for whatever he thinks he just did, Mabel flips over to face him, jamming a finger to his lips and shutting him right the heck up. Dipper stares at her a-la deer in headlights, shaken, vulnerable, totally confused. She stares back at him, her eyes as teary and lost as his are. As she mentally scrambles to figure out her next move, she can't remember ever feeling worse or more guilty than the way she feels right now, right this second.

Mabel has no idea how to fix this, or where to go from here. But she can't stand seeing so much pain and uncertainty in her brother's eyes. God, the way he's looking at her now… he looks so scared, so close to broken, like he's bracing himself for the worst, like he's waiting for her to slap him or tell him she hates him or call him despicable or—

 _God Dip, no, please stop thinking what you're thinking, please stop looking at me like that—_

She does the only thing she can think of—takes her finger away from his lips, cups his face, kisses him—and prays that it'll be enough. Dipper breathes in sharply with a start, but then his hand flies up to cling to hers and she feels him press into her and kiss back. It's soft, quietly desperate, and seems to go on forever. That same warm, tingly sensation in her chest that bubbles up whenever they do this arises again, and Mabel snatches it up, holding onto it with everything she has.

When it's over, she opens her eyes to find Dipper staring at her with a wistful look that she really can't handle right now, and has to drop his gaze, instead looking down towards his slightly parted mouth. She pecks his lips one last time, then his cheek. She leans in close to his ear, pushing unruly curls aside to murmur, "love you, bro," in the most sincere voice she can muster.

It's not a confession, but it's all she can give right now. She hopes he'll be able to understand. The last thing she wants to do is break his heart… but she can't lie to his face, either.

Mabel pulls away, bravely looking Dipper in the eye again, and wills her lips to curl into a small smile. Her brother dutifully smiles back, but he's obviously doing his best to hide the fact that in the end, it's not quite enough. In turn she pretends not to notice what a poor job he's doing. She wraps an arm around his back and leans into him, hiding against his chest, feeling his heart beat a mile a minute. A second or two passes, and then Dipper hugs her back, his hold on her severely lacking in the confidence it had before. She hears him sigh into her hair before he holds her a little closer.

Mabel's eyes shut tightly. It's gonna be a long night.


	5. Limbo (3rd in DB AU)

alrightlalrightalrightalrigh so here's the sequel to this! kind of important to have read that one already to really get this one, just sayin'

this kind of turned into a frickin novella. oops. yeah, it's long, you were warned

there are a few NSFW parts but honestly it's pretty tame stuff

..awyepinecest

edit 4/18/17: gasp this story has it's own sequel now! it also has a Dipper POV story-within-a-story that i never linked to! nice

Mabel doesn't sleep in the dark. And it's not because she entertains any resonating childhood fears or anything, it's just, she's always loved to collect strings of lights, stringing them on her walls, over her desk, across her headboard. They're all different, too, in different funky shapes and lengths and colors—shaped like ice cream cones, stars, chili peppers, old-timey lanterns. Regular ol' Christmas lights. She's got 'em all. And Mabel always falls asleep with at least one or two of them plugged in, soft and glowing, like a much cooler version of a nightlight.

So when she wakes up in the middle of the night in complete darkness, at first she's just groggy and confused.

Then the fact that the red numbers glowing 4:15 am belong to Dipper's alarm clock finally registers in her groggy brain, and it all comes crashing back to her, the realization quickly sweeping away the sluggish cobwebs of sleep. More like violently blowing them away with class-four-tornado wind speeds.

Mabel's skin steadily grows blazing hot as the teenaged girl becomes hyper-aware of the warm body lying right behind her, the steady breaths hitting the back of her head. Of the not completely noodle-y anymore arm draped over her side, still holding her close even in his sleep. Of the dull throb of soreness between her legs. Of the fact that she's completely naked, and so is her brother.

R-right. Oh yeah. There you are, memories. That's right. Her and Dipper made out last night. A lot. Which somehow turned into them doing the no-pants-dance. And afterwards he told her that he loved her.

Alrighty then!

Okey-doke.

Uh.

Nooot really the sort of sleepover she was used to having with the ol' bro-bro, but, eyyy. Good. Good times…

…Hoooo-ly crap.

A frighteningly vivid memory of a sweaty, Big-Dipper-marked forehead pressing against hers while two pairs of hips moved in languid synchronization pops into her head, sending a spark to her crotch and fear streaking through her chest; Mabel squeezes her eyes shut tightly, banishing it, only succeeding for a second before a similar memory takes it's place. Her breath comes out faster. The sheets still smell like them, she realizes. More knots twist in her stomach. She doesn't know what to think. All she knows is that she can't be here right now. She needs to be back in her own bed, stat. Preferably with a shirt on.

Carefully, Mabel maneuvers her way out from under Dipper's suddenly weighty arm, freezing in place when the bed creaks loudly. She holds her breath, watching him roll onto his back and inhale deeply in his sleep, his head turning towards the wall. The whole… naked-together thing sinks in again, and Mabel pretends with all her might that she's totally cool and chill and 'whatevs, man' about the fact that Dipper's blanket has ridden down his gently-rising-and-falling belly in the process of her moving and him switching sleep positions, aaand if it were to ride down much further, she'd probably be able to see some stuff she's really not certain she's up to seeing again. Right now. At this moment in time. Haha, it's fiiine. This is fine everythingisjusttotallyfine.

Only when Dipper is still and breathing rhythmically again does Mabel continue her stealth mission, slipping out of bed and gingerly feeling around on the cluttered carpet for her clothes. Miraculously, her hands stumble across the important stuff, and she's able to step into her pajama pants and yank her hamster shirt over her head. The shirt's tag scratches at her chest as she realizes she put it on backwards, but whatever, it doesn't matter, having clothes on again is helping her feel slightly less panicky. She couldn't find her good-luck-on-dates underwear. Mabel's cheeks flush. That'll just have to stay behind.

She's halfway through tiptoeing her way to the door when her foot comes down on some food wrapper or other, making what feels like in the moment the loudest, most obnoxious crinkling sound in existence. Her starts to race and she bites her lip. Dang it, Dip! Would it kill you to pick up your flippin' room for once—

"…Mabel?" A voice that sounds as sleepy and confused as she'd been a few minutes ago croaks out from behind her, temporarily stopping her heart.

Mabel turns around slowly (resisting her arms' will to raise up in the air in the classic 'caught red handed' pose), wearing her backwards shirt and a small smile he probably can't even see. "Mornin', Dip," she whispers a tad too cheerfully.

"Hey…" Dipper groggily props himself up on his hands. "Uh, are you leaving, or…?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I figured it's probably a good idea to go ahead and uh… skee-daddle back on over to my room. Ya know. Just in case." She rubs her arm.

He doesn't respond right away, and she hears him shift a little on the bed, one of his hands discreetly bunching more of the sheets towards his waist. "It's still pretty early… I was gonna wake you up a while before Mom and Dad get up. If that's what you're worried about." Dipper offers hesitantly, sounding significantly more awake.

She shrugs, trying to cook up an air of nonchalance, her heart racing faster and faster. "Eh. I'm already wide awake, so. Might as well just… do it now."

"Oh. Yeah, gotcha."

He goes quiet, and Mabel throws herself into twiddling her thumbs, wondering if this is her cue to leave. It's too dark to really make out the expression on his face. Just as she's on the verge of "casually" announcing her official farewell, Dipper breaks the silence.

"Mabel, are we… are we okay?"

His voice comes out small, fearful, unnervingly reminiscent of just a few hours ago when he'd tried to apologize to her… right before she'd kissed him. It makes Mabel feel about a foot tall, because this is definitely the part where she's supposed to walk back over to the bed, tenderly lean over him and hug or kiss him in reassurance, smooth his crazy morning bangs to one side of his forehead and tell him that it's okay, everything is fine— she knows it, she can feel it in her bones.

But she doesn't.

"Yeah, Dipper. We're really okay," Mabel says from her spot frozen on the carpet a few feet away, hoping her tone sounds as comforting as she's aiming for it to be and not trembly at all.

More silence. Then she can see Dipper nodding stiffly as he pulls up the sheets clutched in his hand a tiny bit more. "Okay… night, Mabes."

"Night, Dip," she replies automatically, turning to finish her trek out.

"…Love you," she hears him mumble just as she's slipping her way out his bedroom door, the sort-of-forlorn, sort-of-awkward sounding words flying over to her like jungle blow darts and stabbing her in the back, each of them tiny pricks of guilt.

"Loveyoutoobro," Mabel whispers over her shoulder in a stumbling heap, never actually looking back as she carefully but quickly shuts the door behind her. Sweat beads on her forehead. She— she had to shut it fast, or else it would've creaked. Right? She's not acting weird. She's not.

After a quick trip to the bathroom and what seems like a lifetime of tiptoeing, Mabel finally falls back into her own bed, the glow from a string of ice cream cone lights softly illuminating the room. She supposes she should be able to feel some sense of relief now, but her bed feels cold, colder than usual. She tosses and turns under the covers, trying to get comfortable, blankly registering the faint soreness between her thighs all over again. Her cheeks heat up as the quiet stillness of her bedroom allows those thoughts to creep out, the ones that leave her feeling flustered, and confused, and terrified, and… confused.

It's good thing today is Saturday, because it's a long time before sleep finds her.

"Mabel, you're still in bed? It's almost noon! Up, up!"

"Nnm…?"

Consciousness flows back into Mabel's body at the sound of her much-too-cheerful-right-now mother bustling around her room. One of her eyelids crack open only to quickly shut again, blinded by the light streaming in through the newly opened curtains, the brightness drowning out the ice cream cones.

"Moooom, whyyy…" the cranky teenager whines, rolling her face into the pillow.

Mom ignores her cranky tone and keeps talking, walking around and tossing the few sweaters and dresses and t-shirts sprawled on the floor into the laundry basket tucked under her arm, "—I mean it doesn't surprise me that your brother's still in bed, but since when are you such a late sleeper?"

At the mention of Dipper, Mabel instantly tenses, realizing that the pit in her stomach she'd fallen asleep with is still very much there. Color creeps up her neck and into her cheeks, her heartbeat picking up speed as she presses her face against her pillow, trying the escape the shaky but heartfelt 'I love you' echoing relentlessly in her ears.

"Come on, get up and get dressed, kiddo. You have a visitor downstairs." Her mother singsongs and winks at her in the most embarrassing way, and Mabel jerks up in bed, blankets flying, the ominous pit in her stomach growing dangerously quickly.

"Whuh? Who?"

"Hmm. Who do you think?" Mom shoots her a cheeky grin and Mabel feels like she might hyperventilate.

Oh no.

Not now. She can't do this right now, please not now.

Her mother finishes collecting laundry and heads out the doorway, grabbing the knob on her way out. "Up and at 'em hon! Come on, Aiden's already been waiting down there awhile. Go save the poor kid before your dad attempts to bond."

Mom laughs as she shuts the door behind her, leaving Mabel sitting up stiffly in bed. She turns her head towards the mirror over her dresser, and her petrified reflection stares back at her.

Hair. Make up. Cute outfit. All the usual essentials for boyfriend hang outs have to be done up quickly, since he's already here (Why, why is he here at all?!). Her hands are a little shaky as she fits an orange carnation headband—the finishing touch—on her head. She lets her arms flop to her sides, staring blankly into the mirror.

Alright. It's gonna be fine. It's only her boyfriend. She saw him just last night. There's no reason for her to be so over-the-top freaked out right now.

Except there so friggin is, because after you came home from your date with Aiden you waltzed over and cheated the mother of all cheats on him with—!

Mabel quickly drops the eyes of her reflection and marches from her room, determined to act natural.

But it feels like something out of a nightmare, seeing Aiden standing at the bottom of the stairs near the front door, smiling brightly at her. A homemade sign with 'Prom?' spelled out in letters made out hand-drawn cartoon pigs in one hand, a colorful bouquet of daisies in the other, not a hair out of place. His blue eyes sparkling, so obviously happy to see her. The sight is sickeningly adorable. Literally. There is so much churning going on in her stomach right now, it feels like she might be sick at any moment.

A big smile appears on her face halfway down the steps, cheerful greetings prancing of her stupid mouth. Meanwhile, the real Mabel is trapped behind the screen of her own eyes, pulling her hair and wailing in horror, watching the events of her suddenly crazy life play out like a movie she has no control over.

Aiden's timing seriously does feel like something out of a bad movie—showing up at her house the morning after probably the most intense and confusing night of her life, holding flowers out to her, smoothly asking if she'd be so kind as to accompany him to prom. Doing everything she ever wanted from him, five days ago at least.

Now, Mabel hesitates. Her smile faltering ever so slightly. She brings the daisies to her nose and pretends to care a lot about how good they smell, if only to buy herself a smidge more time before she has to give an answer.

The word 'no' is the only thing coming to mind, repeating over and over like scrolling text in her brain.

…But really, how could she say no right now, right to his face? He's her boyfriend. They've been happily dating for over two months now. Everyone expects them to go together. All her friends… her parents, who love Aiden and are probably one room over listening in on the cutesy exchange with amused smiles. Certainly Aiden himself, sweet, kind, considerate Aiden, who doesn't have any reason to believe he'd be turned down when asking his girlfriend to prom. She has every reason to say yes.

…Except for that whole issue of losing it to her brother last night.

For the first time since she woke up that morning, Mabel allows herself to think of Dipper, of his scruffy chin, of his voice, of his easy going smile. Of his hands and lips and body all over her, blatantly overriding logic, making her feel things, terrifying, crazy, wonderful things. She pictures him now, probably asleep and curled up in bed, thick curly hair sticking up every which way, maybe drooling into his pillow, blissfully unaware of what's going on one floor below him.

Then the rumination train escalates to max power and Mabel is being pelted with thought after thought of her brother as a baby and a kid and a teenager, always right alongside her, always right there. She's thinking of how he still never really lets her win at checkers-chess-uno-whatever like a smarty-pants butthead, of those intricate pretend games they would play in the woods behind their Grandma's house (where he was Indiana Jones and she was a Sailor Scout), of the way he sounds through the wall of her room when he sings off-key BABBA songs in the shower. Of the huge scar he has on his elbow from crashing his bike into a mailbox at full speed, which only happened because he'd been hollering over his shoulder to where she was pedaling figure-eights in the middle of the road on her bike, frantically trying to warn her about the car coming from the other direction– and then there's that other jagged scar he has on his knee from freakin' leaping into a giant robot to rescue her from an insane nine-year-old—

Mabel's eyes glaze over as she stares down those daisy petals.

— Of the super sweet that-guy's-a-jerk-and-you're-awesome themed Valentine he made for her in seventh grade after she'd been crying over getting rejected by her crush. Of the way he'll let her lay down in his lap so she can sleep on long car or bus trips, one of his hands holding a book, the other absentmindedly stroking through her hair as he reads. The way he mutters under his breath as his eyebrows furrow and his pen clicks when he's thinking really hard about something, the way his brown eyes will light up like the dang sun when he inevitably figures the something out. Of how he always seems to be right there when she needs him, for anything, no matter what, bickering and tears and laughter and a thousand conversations about nothing and everything echoing in her ears, because they're twins, that's what they've always been, and that's what twins do, they love one another and do everything together and stick by each other through thick and thin, but sex is definitely not supposed to be included in that blanket-term 'everything' that twins do together, oh god oh god it's just not and at the end of the day nothing is going to change the fact that Dipper is her brother, her brother, her brother–

–And Mabel's brain seems to short out, shut down.

"…Mabel?" Aiden's careful voice startles her, triggering words to come pouring out of her mouth.

"Yyyes. Yeah! Y-yeah, of course, I'd love to—aww, babe this is so sweet, thank you—" Like a puppet on strings, Mabel feels her numb arms reach out for the relieved boy in front of her, and she cups his face, pulling it to hers. Aiden drops the sign, his hands coming to rest on her waist. She does her best to put a little enthusiasm into the kiss, even though she feels nothing but icky, icky, icky.

After a few seconds they break apart, a plastic smile etched on Mabel's face, a genuine one on her boyfriend's.

And even though in the moment she feels more grossly icky than she's ever felt before in her life, the nightmare of this morning has barely begun, apparently.

It starts with prickling on the back of her neck, followed by a sinking stomach when she realizes that the prickling is actually the feeling of someone watching her. Aiden is stroking his hands up her back and leaning in again when she jerks her head around, seeking out the source. Her boyfriend's lips land on her cheek just as Mabel makes excruciatingly acute eye contact with Dipper, who is standing at the top of the stairs, arms limp at his sides, plainly stricken with disbelief.

The seconds seem to tick by slowly as she takes him in, an all-powerful feeling of dread seeping through her body, crippling her. She wants to throw up and maybe burst into tears at the betrayed, utterly crushed look in her brother's eyes, but she can't bring herself to look away. How long Dipper has been standing there like that, there's no way to know for sure, but something is telling her that it was long enough. And he doesn't say a word, but she knows him so well, it's almost as if she can hear him yelling the questions she's certain he's thinking down at her anyway.

How could you? Did last night even mean anything to you at all? What did I do wrong? I thought we were… I thought you…

Time speeds up again as an equally stricken Mabel watches her twin unfreeze—his features crumbled and glaring, his hands balled up into fists—and disappear from sight. She flinches when the sound of a door slamming shut clatters through the house a second later.

No. No. No.

Aiden jumps a little at the sound, pulling away from her cheek. "Jeez, what's with the door slammage? …Hey, you alright Mabe?"

No, her brain wails, her eyes still glued to the empty spot at the top of the stairs. No, I think I just did something really really not cool and bad and unfixable, so no no no no HECK no I am not alright!

She blinks. "…Um. What? Yeah! I'm fine, I just— ahh, zoned out for a sec there."

Aiden raises his eyebrow and chuckles, smoothly streamlining into telling her all about the wacky guy on the phone when he called to make limo reservations, not even blinking an eye at the dull clatter that rumbles from upstairs in the middle of his story… like something being hurled against a wall and then crashing to the ground, maybe. Mabel swallows hard, all her concentration now dedicated to keeping a smile in place, barely any energy left over to actually listen to the lighthearted words that are being said.

Her boyfriend's hands feel like weights on either side of her waist, but they're nowhere near as heavy as the one in her chest.

"Ooh! May-may, you should totally try this one on, it'd look amazing on you." Mabel glances over to the redheaded girl one clothing rack over from her, who's holding up a short, plain-looking (to Mabel at least) black dress.

"Ehhh," she responds, waving her hand in a 'so-so' gesture. "I don't think that one's very me. And this is prom! I gotta make… a statement." She gazes dramatically into the distance, brown eyes narrowed into a mock-serious expression.

Jenna walks over to where Mabel is standing in the bustling department store, folding her arms. "You never try on anything I pick out for you."

"Aw, don't take it personally, Jen. You know how it goes. Got an image to uphold, n' all that jazz. A certain… Mabel-y flairrr, if you will. Not many people can comprehend the vastness of its standards." Mabel laughs and wiggles her fingers, prompting Jenna to raise an eyebrow at her.

"Yeeeah. So I've heard," she drawls, rolling her eyes and turning her attention to her phone.

Mabel just smiles, shrugging off the comment and turning back to the rack. She's used to style criticisms, even from some of her friends. And Jenna is probably the most judgmental and overbearing of all Mabel's friends, which is saying something, because she's got a lot of them. Jenna had insisted that the two of them go prom dress shopping together. Prom's only a little over a month away, and if they don't get a jump on things now all the good ones will be picked over. It's not like Mabel could refuse her, since Jenna technically is the one who introduced her to Aiden earlier that semester.

"Oooh, this one's pretty fabulous," Mabel pulls out a ocean-blue bejeweled dress from between the masses of satin and chiffon and holds it up for Jenna to see. The short redhead glances up from typing out a message on her phone and grimaces.

"Gag me," Jenna says, returning to her task of rapidly tapping her thumbs against a screen. "Seriously girl, just because people can cover a dress in tacky sequins and shit, doesn't mean they should."

"Pfff," Mabel huffs, trying not to let on how offended she is at the blasphemous comment, "well I for one beg to differ."

Still, the dress goes back on the rack.

"Sooo. Prom," Jenna says, her voice uncharacteristically light and airy as she drops her phone in her purse and joins Mabel in the search for the perfect dress.

"Prommmm," Mabel bobs her head in distracted agreement, her eye now on a short, poofy blue number.

"Usually to be followed up by prom night."

"True facts, girlfriend."

"Aaaand you know what they say about prom night…"

Mabel grins. "That the school sponsored after-prom is always lame?"

Jenna scoffs and smiles, throwing down the folds of a light pink satin hem, digging out her buzzing phone again. "Oh please Mabel, don't pretend like you don't know what I'm about to ask you."

"Alrightalrightalright. But say we hypothetically pretended for a second that I didn't, what then."

Jenna casually slides a dress back and forth along the rack, her blue eyes skimming over her latest text. "You gonna let Aiden get somewhere with you or what?"

Mabel goes bright red, fumbling with the several prom dress selections draped over her arms. "Oh! Oh, that, haha. Uh, to be honest I haven't really—" A dress slips from her hands and she quickly drops to the floor to pick it up.

Oh, fudge. This isn't good. Because she's acting weird and guilty (which isn't her fault, she is weird and very, very guilty) and Jenna, self-proclaimed gossip queen, is going to pick up on this fact in about three, two—

"Unless." Jenna's eyes light up at the prospect of being in-the-know about something new and she pockets her phone. "Unless you already have!"

It's times like these when Mabel wishes she was a better liar. Okay not liar in this case, but… more like secret keeper. "Have what?" She asks weakly, avoiding her friend's overbearing blue stare, trying to laugh it all off with an innocent smile that's probably entirely shifty.

"Oh my god!" Jenna screeches, and several nearby shoppers turn their heads in the girls' direction. "You dirty little sneak, you guys totally did it didn't you! How could you not tell me you're not a virgin anymore!"

Mabel's eyes widen and she's feeling more than a little like a deer in headlights. Well, she thinks begrudgingly, part of that statement's true, anyway. She turns redder (if that's at all possible), frozen and unresponsive. Jenna's not having any of it.

"Uh, hello! Spill already, before I have to beat it out of you! When did it happen, how did it happen, and most importantly," Jenna giggles conspiratorially under her breath, "was it actually any good?"

Mabel's skin has now heated up to temperatures of epic proportions while her lips purse tightly together, her eyes now on her shoes. Sure, Jen. Let me regale to you the wondrous tale of how I randomly got it on with my twin bro the other night. Shan't that be fantastic! Mabel tries to keep herself from grimacing, the sights and sounds and smells of this dumb ol' department store suddenly making her feel sick. Oh god. Oh god, oh god. She has to fight the urge to cover her face with her hands.

What happened that night was… was… well, she hasn't really figured it out yet. And this girl is probably one of the last people she'd want to talk about it with, even if she could talk about it, even if it would be in code, an extra messed-up code where her brother is replaced by a boyfriend whose presence in her life has become the equivalent of deflated soufflé. Soufflé that she often has a hard time looking in the eye. Which is ironic, since she's been making a point to spend more and more time with the guy. Anything to not be at home, where she lives across the hall from someone who doesn't seem to want anything to do with her anymore.

"Uhm, sorry to disappoint," Mabel finally answers, "but we haven't done anything like that."

It's certainly not a lie. Sometimes she can barely bring herself to even kiss Aiden when he leans expectantly towards her lips; the thought of doing anything more than that with him makes her feel sick to her stomach.

"Oh, bullshit," Jenna says, narrowing her eyes, that busybody smile still in place. "You really expect me to believe that? Are you not aware of how red your face is right now?"

"Well it's the truth, so take it or leave it." Mabel suddenly feels very done talking to Jenna. "I'm gonna go try these on," she says curtly, hefting the dresses over to one arm before turning on her foot and fast walking away, leaving Jenna standing alone between the racks. She'll pay for that one later, but right now she doesn't give a crap.

Finding the nearest dressing room, Mabel strides over to the first stall she sees and shuts the door behind her just as a choked sob escapes her lips. Luckily all the other stalls looked empty, because another one bubbles up right after that.

She lets the dresses fall from her arms and hit the ground in a heap, turning towards the full length mirror, wiping at her teary red eyes and trying to get her breathing under control. She stares at her reflection, noting her heaving shoulders, her smeared make up, the faint purple rings under her eyes.

You gotta calm down, Mabel. You can't cry here, so just caaalm on down.

Somehow managing to get her shoulders to go still again, Mabel shudders out a sigh, sinking down along the wall until she's sitting on the carpet, chin resting on her knees.

It's getting to her. It's only been a few days, but it's really, really getting to her. The Dipper shutting her out thing.

When she thinks about it, it's a truly difficult feat when they live in the same house, go to the same school, share a vehicle between them, along with classes and parents and a few friends. But boy, Mabel thinks, her eyes welling up again, has he been doing a good job of it anyway. A dang good job, considering he hasn't said a word to her or even looked at her once since Saturday.

And here she thought the way they'd been avoiding each other last week, after they'd only kissed, was bad; this is taking it to a whole new level of pain and awkwardness. Dipper has straight up made himself disappear from her life. Abracadabra, poof. Gone. She barely ever sees him come out of his room. His door is always locked. He's been riding to and from school this week with their neighbor friend, leaving her to drive their van alone. He ignored the one and only text she had the courage to send him– all it said was 'dipper im so sorry can we please talk' and all she'd gotten in response were those tiny gray letters that said 'read at 12:31 am,' and she didn't attempt any more texts after that.

The few times they've crossed paths at home or at school, Dipper kept his head down and kept on walkin' without so much as a glance her way. He refuses to come down and eat dinner with the family no matter how much Mom furiously raps on his locked bedroom door, and last night, when her parents finally sat her down and asked her all worried-like if she knew what was going on with Dipper, and she had to lie right to their faces… god, Mabel has no idea how she got through that conversation without breaking down into loud blubbery whale tears, much less how she managed to come across as convincing liar for once. Man, did she feel horrible-gross about that one.

Not nearly as horrible-gross as she feels about the case of the disappearing Dip, though. Every day that passes without speaking to him, with him avoiding her as if he just can't bear to be in her presence, is like a chip away from her heart with an especially pointy ice pick. It hurts. It feels so wrong and unnatural. But she's too ashamed of how things went down that dreaded morning after to put her foot down and try to end the madness.

Oh god… Mabel hugs her knees to her chest, her face wilting, remembering. That first evening, when the avoiding was just beginning, she'd accidentally bumped into Dipper coming out of his room as she headed for the stairs. His head was down like he was trying to hide it, but she could still see still see his puffy, reddened eyes… his damp cheeks, his runny nose, his blotchy, exhausted face. Like, that was unmistakably the face of someone who'd just spent a looong time in tearsville. Mabel's heart had leapt into her throat so savagely that she felt like she might choke on it. By the time she opened her mouth to say something, anything, Dipper had already strode into the bathroom across the hall and quickly shut the door behind him.

That was the moment her heart had snapped in two. The thought of her brother crying like that over something she'd done… it easily made her start to cry, and she never actually made it downstairs— instead she spent the next hour sniffling into a pillow, shedding miserable tears for this new, ugly crack in their relationship, one that felt impossible to fix. Then shedding even more tears thanks to that scary, debilitating feeling that no matter what she does next, it'll still be the wrong thing.

Now, sitting on the floor of an empty dressing room, a few tears escape and roll their way down Mabel's cheeks. She'd taken so much care not to break Dipper's heart that night. And then, a measly few hours later, ended up smashing it to smithereens anyway.

It was an accident, she hadn't meant for him to see…

Dang it, a-all she'd done was kiss her boyfriend!

Ugh… as if it was really that simple. This argument has played out in her head about a zillion times already.

Mabel's not sure how much longer she can take this. Even if she still doesn't really know how to process what happened between them Friday night, Dipper is still her twin bro, and her best friend, and being completely shut out like this hurts so badly. It feels like she's lost him, even though he's still right down the hall.

But she's not completely blameless. It's not like she's gone out of her way to seek him out and try to fix things, either, not since that one super lame apology text. She's… afraid of him. Of what he must be thinking about her now (oh god he hates her he hates her doesn't he). And she hates herself for allowing that fear to get to her, because Dipper deserves so much more than that, but… how she'd left things between them… and that look on his face… she can't face it. It kills her.

Mabel doesn't know what else to do other than leave him be. If Dipper doesn't want to see her, or talk to her, or acknowledge she exists, then she won't make him.

No matter how much her heart is aching.

Her phone buzzes inside her cat-shaped bag, and she wearily pulls it out to see a text from Jenna, demanding where she is.

Great. Mabel sniffs and wipes at her eyes. Back into the world of friends and boyfriends and prom it is, then.

In the end, four whole days pass before Dipper says a word to her. On day five Mabel looks up from her spot on the bed where she's listening to music and knitting a tea cozy, and there he is standing in her open doorway, gingerly giving the frame a few weak knocks.

"Dipper," is all she can find it in herself to say, her knitting needles going still in her hands.

"Hey, Mabel." Dipper takes a few steps inside, leaving the door open behind him. It's late afternoon and their parents are still at work, so nobody is home but the two of them. His hands are deep in his pockets, and he's looking in her direction, but not quite looking at her.

Like he's afraid to, or something.

Her throat feels tight. She tries to remember what she'd planned on saying to her brother whenever he decided to talk to her again, but now that the moment's here, words are escaping her. She feels like a robot, trapped inside her own body, because all she wants to do is hug him, comfort him, (kiss him? No.), mess up his hair and tell him dumb yo mama jokes until that dejected look on his face is long gone and he's smiling and laughing again—but her limbs won't move from the stupid bed.

Ugh, what is this robot phenomenon that keeps happening? What the heck is wrong with her?

"I—"

"I'm—"

They start and stop at the same time, words left hanging in the air, timid looks on both their faces. Mabel has never felt this tense around her brother before, and she doesn't like it. Not one bit.

"Sorry. You first."

Dipper hesitates, using one hand to scratch at his jaw before returning it to the safety of his pocket. "I uh… I wanted to apologize for the way I've been treating you. It wasn't cool of me, and you didn't deserve any of it, and I'm sorry."

The image of Dipper's crestfallen face at the top of the stairs pops into Mabel's brain and she starts to shake her head, slowly at first, but then gathering speed. Didn't deserve any of it? She begs to differ! She opens her mouth to voice this aloud, but the words die in her throat when Dipper holds up a halting hand.

"Please, just, hear me out for a sec. I've um… I've been doing a lot of thinking. And—"

He pauses, looking torn, and miserable, and Mabel almost forgets to breathe, trying to prepare herself for whatever he could be about to say.

"I can see now that… I kinda. Um. May have gotten a little ahead of myself, there." He holds a hand out in front of him, starting to tick down fingers one by one. "And I'm sorry for pushing all of that on you out of nowhere, and confusing you, and assuming things… a lot of things… man…"

He blushes, scrubbing a thumb and index finger over his eyes, shaking his head to himself. "Like looking back on everything that happened and how I went about it, it wasn't fair of me to assume… like, anything, at all, a-and—" his hand drops away as he forces himself to look her in the eye, "I'm so sorry, Mabel, I swear to god, I never meant to make you feel like you had to — to like—" Dipper's face sours and he cuts off mid-sentence, looking humiliated and completely disgusted with himself, and dear god, she hates this, she hates this so much, "…I-I'm so sorry I took it that far, and messed with your head in the most twisted fucking way and— dragged you into this without actually knowing if you even wanted… any of it. Oh my god, I mean," he laughs hollowly and covers his face with his hands, muffling his voice for a second, "honestly, who would?"

His words become a little less frantic, returning to being just plain ashamed. "I… I don't know. I guess I," his blush spreads like cherry-red wildfire to the tips of his ears, "I spent so long wanting something like that to happen that… I was seeing what I wanted to see, I guess. I-I'm fucked in the head, I know that… and I got caught up in the moment, and… I know that's not an excuse. I just. I screwed up, Mabel. And I'm so, so, sorry."

He looks at her, his eyes huge and pleading. Mabel blinks at him, feeling paralyzed. Dipper is giving her an out. And she's too terrified to do anything but numbly take it.

"…Um, I guess I did too, with the moment, and the getting caught up in it, 'n junk… I'm really sorry too, Dipper," she says, her voice trailing off to barely above a whisper. She says all of that because it felt like that's what he was expecting her to say, so that's all she could think to say. But she's not sure if it's one-hundred-percent true, and all this guilt and doubt and could-be lies are starting to gnaw away at her insides.

Dipper is still looking straight into her eyes, like he doesn't want to be but won't allow himself to look away. All she can do is stare helplessly back at him, her face as flushed as his. He takes in a breath.

"I've been a really shitty brother to you, and I get that now."

Mabel's heart skips a beat in a painful way as it finally dawns on her that he's pinning this whole mess on himself. All of it.

"No, Dip, you haven't—"

Dipper shakes his head, eyes dropping hers as he cuts her off, his voice thick. "Mabel, stop, you don't have to–" his sentence breaks off with a soft, hoarse sound. He swallows, "you don't need to spare my feelings or whatever, okay? I know that this is… I mean, this is fucked up. We don't have to pretend it isn't. But you have to know that I– like I know the damage is already done but seriously, I never–" his face crumbles a little as he drops his forehead against his hand. "God," his voice cracks on the word, "I never meant to hurt you, Mabes. I'm so sorry I did this to us. I wish I could take it all back, but I can't. I just… I-I hope you can forgive me someday."

Dipper stops talking, blinking rapidly and trying to subtly clear the frog in his throat. Mabel has no idea what to say to any of that. She's heard enough to figure out what he's implying and she's still acting like a frozen, useless robot of a sister instead of saying anything comforting. She feels completely disgusting, so, so rotten.

Say something. Say something!

Her voice shakes hard as she speaks, her eyes welling up, "Dipper, no. It's not… i-it's not like that, you didn't…"

The cracked, weak words don't form into sentences quickly enough and Dipper seems to take that as an affirmation for something, shaking his head grimly. "Seriously… you don't have to. It's okay. I mean it's not okay, but. All I— all I want is for things to go back to normal, y-you know? If, uh, you're okay with that. I've been thinking about it, and maybe if we… like if we want it enough, and put in the effort to make things feel normal, maybe we could get back to the way it was. Like, eventually?"

He doesn't sound at all like he really believes that, and Mabel is trying really, really hard not to cry.

"But there's not gonna be anymore weird stuff, Mabel. You don't have to worry, I promise you I'm not—" his eyes dart to the floor, voice dropping to a mumble, "gonna try anything, or… anything. Ever again. Like that's totally over, I'm done, I swear," Dipper raises his hands in front of his chest in surrender as he forces out the words in a rush, while Mabel nods her head quickly and stares down a random spot of wall like her life depends on it – aughhh this is the most awkward and depressing conversation of her life, probably. "But I might… um, need a little time. To get my shit together, and… yeah."

The mechanical tone of Dipper's voice actually scares her. She wants to cry out, wrap him up in a big bear hug and proclaim that he is to never speak in that dead robot voice in her presence ever again—but she's still trapped in her own robot body. And all her body decides to do is nod and squeak out, "yeah, that's fine. Sure."

Dipper nods gratefully and clears his throat again, lifting his arm to scratch the back of his neck, and Mabel has to rip her eyes away from the tiniest peek of boxers and happy trail she gets when his t-shirt rides up a little past his jeans. Stop looking at him like that, Mabel. It is not the time. It'll never ever be the time, because you made your choice and now you gotta stick with it.

She refuses to toy with Dipper's heart a second longer. She had it for a second there, and majorly funked it up, and you don't get second chances when situations are this weird and delicate and brother-sister relationships are on the line. You just don't.

His arm drops down, his gaze shifting to the side before locking back on hers. "So, do you think, um… are we cool, for now?"

Dipper steps toward her, the thinnest of smiles on his lips, hesitantly extending his fist. At first Mabel just stares at it, because none of this feels cool at all.

"…Yeah, we're cool, Dip." Shooting her brother a tiny smile in return, she bumps the waiting fist with her own.

Dipper apologized, but things don't go back to normal. Not that that really surprises her, since nothing about the root of their problem was actually fixed (or can ever be fixed? No, no Mabel, you can't think that way), but…

Things are different now, between her and her brother.

He's not blatantly going out of his way to avoid her anymore, which is a relief. But their conversations are short-lived and halted. Banter, if any, doesn't feel totally natural. They certainly don't bring up what happened as a rule, not since that one sad-'n-awk convo. They don't spend much time together at all, really. And he never touches her anymore, ever. Not even accidentally. No more hand grasps, hugs, couch cuddles, playful headlocks, twin secret handshakes… but to be fair, she hasn't made any attempts to touch him either.

In the beginning, being deliberately alone together at all seemed out of the question, and the only time they ever really were was in their van on the way to and from school. Which was okay… but then Aiden started picking her up for school in the mornings since her house is pretty close to his, while Dipper started throwing himself into after school clubs he previously didn't seem to be as invested in, so that took care of that.

With each day that passes, Dipper starts to seem the tiniest bit more open to being around her, and it gets a little better. But not by much.

Acting like everything's a-okay around the 'rents appears to be an unspoken agreement between them. Mabel finds herself looking forward to family dinners more. At least she gets to talk to him some in a way that she can almost, if only for a few minutes, pretend that they've accomplished their goal and things are as easy going as they used to be.

A week goes by that is severely lacking in her twin, and then another.

She doesn't mean for it to go on so long, but it does. And at this point she doesn't know how to go about fixing it. The fact that it's been going on long enough to form into habit scares the bejesus out of her, makes her want to kick stuff and yell and sink to her knees and cry because above everything, she misses him. She's still not sure what exactly she… uh, feels for him, or whatever (She's not. She's really not!). But she misses her brother.

God, does she miss that nerd. So much that a lot of times it's hard to think of anything else.

But, Mabel keeps reminding herself, she made a choice— even if it is a choice that she's been going over in her head bleventeen times a day ever since. She picked Aiden, not Dipper. She went with super-hunky dirty-blonde soccer-playing normalcy, she chose her… gh, um… dream boy. And when it comes to Dipper… well, Mabel knows what being rejected feels like, she's well aware of how much it royally sucks. In this hairy situation it's gotta feel, like, next-level horrible and sucky. She really tries not to dwell on that part too much, because it makes her want to disappear into guilt-and-shame-sweatertown forevermore. Jeez, it… yeah. It would not be fair of her to push any of Dipper's boundaries right now. Not when he said he needed time.

That's what she keeps telling herself, to try and make it easier to deal with all the hurt she's feeling and the double dose of hurt he's got to be feeling.

Dipper will come around. He just needs time.

The weeks continue to trudge by, and before she knows it, Mabel is standing in her room in front of a mirror, all dolled up in her full skirted, pink and purple prom dress. Hair and nails and fancy make-up done, silver heels strapped to her feet.

It's prom night, and when Aiden rings her doorbell in a matter of minutes, they'll take pictures here, drive to a friend's and take more pictures, go out to a schmancy-pants restaurant with a huge group of their coupled-up friends, head out to the dance, and then after that throw down at Britney Ayers' exclusive, overnight, widely anticipated, word-on-the-street-is-there-will-be-lots-of-alcohol-and-minimal-supervision after party. It sounds like a great time, and really, she'd love to be more excited about it, but…

Mabel frowns into the mirror, arms raised above her head to stick tiny flowers pins in her intricately twisted bun. Trying not to think about what she's of course going to end up thinking about anyway.

…Dipper isn't going to prom. A few days ago she overheard Mom in the kitchen prying him for why he didn't want to go, and all he said was that prom was overrated and there was no one he wanted to go with anyway, maybe next year. Then he retreated to his room (aka his hermit cave) per the norm, passing by where she'd been sitting in the living room working on further bedazzling her prom dress. He didn't say anything and didn't look at her.

She felt the usual dull stab to the gut, even though things have slowly but steadily gotten better between the two of them… they still don't hang out like they used to, but there have been some signs that maybe things do actually have a shot at getting close to the normalcy that once was, which a month ago felt impossible.

Signs, like him spending a little less time in the cave of his room when they're both home. She's seeing more of him. He'll smile at things she says when they talk here and there around the house or in the car or in English. Sometimes they joke around and the laughter is genuine, and she'll get a taste of the old Mystery Twins, how easy it used to be, which makes her long for them back that much more. He's starting to do brother things again, like cut her off for the bathroom in the mornings and burp loudly in front of her without apology and poke fun at Dad's mustache with her when a piece of food gets stuck in it. He can look her in the eye again when he talks. And for the most part he has stopped acting so dang afraid of her.

Things are looking up, and she's happy about that, like, really, really happy! She really is, it's just…

Uhhhm…

Lately her brain has been pestering her with this sort of… well, nagging inkling that… maybe she miiight not be as confused about her feelings for Dipper as she used to be.

For one thing, he always seems to be on her mind. He's been making wayyy more appearances in her dreams at night, appearances she would really rather not elaborate on, and when she's awake she catches herself thinking about him during class, or in the shower, or while working on an art project, or when she's with her friends, or with Aiden… blahh, everywhere! She'll wonder what he's doing. What he might be thinking about right that second. Half of this can be explained away by the fact that she's missing him, deeply nostalgic for the way their friendship used to be, but that sure doesn't explain the part where she goes on to wonder if (hope) he's thinking about her, too. It sure as heck doesn't explain her zoning out in Spanish and daydreaming a scenario where her fingers are laced with Dipper's, and he's leaning over and kissing her cheek, all sweet and tender and careful like he did that one time, then stroking her hair behind her ear and bending to kiss her neck just as tenderly and she doesn't learn any Spanish that day, at all.

Sometimes, when she looks at Dipper, Mabel will find her eyes flicking down to his mouth, and a sudden, powerful impulse to yank him in by the shoulders and kiss his face all up will course through her veins. It's awkward— especially since it happens at really weird, random times, like him eating cereal and watching TV in sweatpants that haven't been washed in way too long, or taking an annoying amount of time to make sure the rear-view mirror is adjusted juuust perfectly right before he drives them to school, or boredly standing in front of the bathroom mirror as he washes out his toothbrush, minding his own business—but she's always able to shake it off, keep her face straight, and pretend the random oh-crap-I think-I-wanna-besmooch-my-bro urges aren't happening.

But other times when she looks at Dipper, her super-jerk brain will out of nowhere decide to vividly recall the scrunched-up face he made and the choked moans he'd shuddered out when he… uhhh… finished inside her. During those times her entire body will turn a shade of pink, an embarrassing throb no-one-frickin-invited making itself known between her legs, and she'll find whatever excuse she can to duck out of his presence. Because uh, hello! She's supposed to be forgetting about that! Huge no-no thought! Not cool brain, not cool. In the end Mabel is assaulted with more guilt as she desperately tries to banish the intrusive inappropriate-Dipper-thoughts and get her body temperature under control.

Then there are those few times late at night in her bed, when she doesn't even care about making an effort to forget…and when her head is rolled back into her pillow, her teeth digging into her lip and her fingers real busy beneath her blanket, erm… well, it's definitely not Aiden she's picturing on top of her, kissing her neck, curling her toes, pushing her over the edge. That's for sure. Ugh. There was one night where she got a little too into the fantasy-that-must-not-be-named and accidentally moaned his name, consequently slapping a hand over her mouth, her face burning, her mind all kinds of paranoid that someone had heard her. So paranoid that she spent the next fifteen minutes laying there stock-still, hardly daring to breathe, her thighs pressed tightly together.

Hooo boy. She's gotten herself into some majorly hot and unexpected water, that much is obvious.

But even if all this stuff does mean that she's feelin' some abnormal feels for her brother (and she's not. She only uses him for inspo during Mabel-time because he's the only guy she's ever done that sort of R-rated shiz with and therefore that's the most authentic material she has to go off of, okay?!), then what? What good would that do anyone? Dipper made it pretty clear that he wanted things to go back to normal. And she hurt him so badly… so she needs to respect him enough to try, right?

And her current boyfriend is perfectly fine, and so sweet, and he wants to take her to prom, asked her so nicely and bought her a limo ride and flowers and… and besides, who's to say Dipper even still wants her anymore, after all that crappy drama biz they went through? Mabel frowns. He wouldn't. It's just not worth it. He's into normal, now. And she should be following his lead. Normal is the better option, normal is easy. L-wording your brother is complicated and hard and very much not normal.

…Augh, why can't she just want normal on her own! Why is she having to force it so hard, why is this happening now all of a sudden!

Mabel tries repeating the most obvious statements in her head, hoping it'll finally sink in somehow. Dipper is her brother. Not boyfriend material. Not guy who is both attractive and available. Family. Immediate family! Brother.

Yeah… your bro who you just so happen to have gone all the way with that one time… who made you o-face so hard you wanted to scream.

Ugh! Objection your honor, relevance! Just—no. Bad Mabel. Dipper. Is. Her. Brother. Her in-diapers-together, peed-his-pants-on-the-teeter-totter-in-kindergarten, zero-fashion-sense, bit-of-a-know-it-all, annoying-pen-clicker, nerdy-as-heck brother.

Who is also amazingly cool and smart and loyal and fun to hang out with and don't forget had that magical ability to kiss you in a way that made you forget where you were for a second!

Yeah, he is a surprisingly good kisser… Dammit, no! Dipper is her brother! Her friggin' twin brother! It's the big scary 'I'! Weird incesty biz! What is so hard to understand about that? She's weird, but not that weird. God, she can't be that person…

Except you can't do what you're doin' and think what you're thinking and not be that person, can you? And by that logic, you've already been that person for like… a month and a half. Boom goes the dynamite.

…Oh, no… could she really actually be…

Oh come on!

She can't be "in luuuhve" or whatever, not with Dipper. Not him, not now! It would be too weird, too complicated, it… it would ruin everything! They went down that road once, and it got real messy real fast. If she tries any of that funny business now, when things are so delicate, who's to say she won't lose him for good? Because, hellooo, Earth to Mabel! He doesn't want you like that anymore! Especially not after the gross way you shut him down!

Dipper said it himself, he wants normal. He wants a normal relationship with his sister. It's a very reasonable thing to want! And even if their current relationship isn't anywhere close to what it used to be before, at least they're making progress. It was pretty bad for a sec there, so bad she can't even think about it without wiggin' out a little. At least now they can pass each other around the house and not have the air between them turn cold… at least they can hold a conversation. At least they can laugh and smile around each other again, if only for a little bit, and have it feel genuine.

Aw, man. She can't ruin that. She can't lose him. No matter what, Dipper is still more important to her than… than anyone. And… and anyways… she has a boyfriend.

Right. A boyfriend.

Who'll be ringing the doorbell any second now, to pick her up for her first prom.

Mabel halfheartedly sticks one last flower in her hair, and slumps down to sit on her bed, hugging herself.

Hours later, she finds herself wrapped up in Aiden's arms on the dance floor, swaying back and forth along to a sappy love song with all the other couples, in a daze. And not a cutesy lover's daze. The kind of daze where her mind is on another planet and she's confused as to why she's even here. Prom night is turning out to be really anticlimactic.

Aiden catches her eye, and leans down for a kiss. Her old robot self makes an appearance, instructing her to close her eyes and pucker her lips. How magical.

If Aiden has noticed how uninterested she's been in their relationship lately, he certainly hasn't been showing it. To be fair to him, she has been doing her best not to be obvious about it.

He ends the lackluster lip-smacking, giving her that winning smile of his before holding her closer. Mabel lays her head on his shoulder, facing away from him, chewing on her lip. Meh. Kissing Dipper made stuff like that seem like sloppy grandma cheek-kiss material by comparison. Okay, that was way harsh, Aiden gets a mental apology for that one but… well, it did, kinda. Dip is weirdly good at it for someone who has very minimal experience with the ladies (um, as far as she knows, anyway). That might've been what made her so… two-parts-horrified-one-part-intrigued, the first time it happened.

A blush blooms on Mabel's cheeks.

Dipper. There he is again, poppin' up in her head, riiiight on schedule.

She wonders what her brother is up to right now, being one of the handful of juniors in their class who didn't make an appearance at prom (which is a real shame because he actually rocks a tux– fancy!Dipper is a remarkable but rarely spotted creature). Maybe he's reading a book in the family room… pfff, that's probs some obscure nonfiction thing about known cults in America or something, Dip is such a huge nerd for weird-creepy-mysterious stuff like that. Or maybe he unearthed their dusty N-64 out of the cluttered entertainment center again to play some good ol' Ocarina of Time. When she got up to pee the other night she peeked downstairs and saw him playin' it at like 2 in the AM; he was kicking butt in the Water Temple and it was really hard to resist the urge to tiptoe down there, plop down next to him and watch him play (if he wrote over the save file she's kept for the last six years she'll kill him). Or maybe he's in the kitchen, sing-humming BABBA under his breath as he makes himself a PB 'n J, with grape jelly cuz it's his fave.

…Or he might be up in his room, laying in bed with headphones in like a sad lump. He's been known to do that lately, Mabel has noticed, when she passes by his room and his door happens to be cracked instead of shut. Which is not often.

She pictures him lying there on his back, staring at the ceiling, all alone, by himself…

There's a pang in her chest.

Dipper seems so down all the time now. Mopey, lethargic, quiet… yeah, he's always been the more moody, I-don't-know-how-to-deal-with-human-emotions-like-a-normal-person one of the two of them, especially since they hit their teen years, but the rift between them has taken Dipper's lows to a whole new level.

Man. She should really be doing more to fix that. She's his bubbly optimist-to-his-pessimist twin, it's been her job to turn that anxious frown upside-down since they were chubby lil' babies figuring out how to smile. And she's really been failing at her job lately.

And what's been stopping her? Why has she settled into the bare minimum? Why hasn't she busted inside his room in full clown gear yet, doing the sprinkler dance and shooting him with a Nyarf gun? Why hasn't she offered him a cheesy monster movie marathon, something that has a history of cheering up his sour moods in no time flat? Why hasn't she at least pulled him aside, let him know that no matter what, she's still here for him, that she'll always be his sister?

He might yell at me to leave him alone. He might turn me away.

Yeah, okay, he might, but since when has the possibility of Dipper being irritated with her ever stopped her before?

He… he said he needed time…

Oh, penguin poop! That is such crap, it's obviously her own fear that's been holding her back from doing all these things, using that 'time' thing as an excuse. And now, what, she's taken like fifty emotional steps back from her brother, while at the same time wondering why things aren't going back to normal faster, why it's taking him so long to come around?

Ah, crapsticks. She's been a horrible sister, hasn't she? At the very least a super lame and cowardly one.

Mabel shuts her eyes tightly against the jacket of Aiden's tux. She's so tired of being afraid all the time. Of walking on eggshells. Of worrying that her brother might secretly hate her. It's about time she puts on her big girl pants and does something to change it.

Tomorrow morning, when she gets home from Brittney Ayers' after-prom party, she'll make it happen. She'll stalk straight up to Dipper's bedroom, and when he opens the door with that cute bedhead of his she'll throw her arms around him and they'll have a nice, long, air-clearing hug, and then they will work this shiz out. One weird night is not gonna take down the Mystery Twins, hell freakin' no. They will find a way to be normal around each other if it kills her. Heck, she'd even be willing to resort to one of Dipper's twenty-point-plans for the cause. Anything. Whatever it takes. And maybe after they talk everything out she'll spout off one of her funniest jokes and make him laugh until there are tears in his eyes. And then she'll kiss him.

She sticks out her tongue, embarrassed.

Mmmnope, not kiss him. That does not fall within the guidelines of being normal around each other, Mabel, ya dummy. Nope nope nope.

Well, maybe one on the cheek? She's done that plenty of times before. It might be pushin' the boundaries a little at this point in the air-clearing timeline, but that could still potentially fall within the guidelines, right?

Oh, give it a rest already. You want to kiss him. You always want to kiss him. And not on the cheek. Deal with it, lady.

Okay, whatever, fine. No big deal, she'll 'fess up to that much. So maybe she wants to kiss Dipper and not on the cheek. Maybe she wants to kiss him on the lips, really really badly, but pfff, she wanted to kiss the guy on the 10 dollar bill too at one point, she's had loads of weird this-too-shall-pass kiss urges over the course of her life, it's not like this is any— it's—she's– that, that does not mean that she—

Uhhhh this logic is gettin a little–

No, wait– waitwaitwait–

It drops on her like a cartoon grand piano. Her heart rate skyrockets, her skin heating up all over, as it finally occurs to Mabel that this crippling fear she's been stewing in for so long, not unlike fear-shame-there's-no-way-I-could-be-that-person stew in a crockpot on low, may have also blatantly and stupidly kept her from conceding to the hard fact that–

Oh, shit…take mushrooms.

She's… she's actually in love with…?

Nope, yup, oh lord, she is. She's in love with Dipper. Thaaat's definitely a thing.

Wow. After alllll that bullcrap, all that hurt, after she shoved him away, scared and determined not to be in love with him… there it is. She loves him. Oops. Holy mother of pearl, come to think of it she is most definitely head-over-heels, frolic through a sunny field of daisies, straight up rom-com female lead status in love with her own freakin' brother.

She is undeniably that person. And she doesn't care anymore.

It's totally not normal, but, but—well, screw normal! If normal means keeping all of this straitjacketed up inside of herself like a big lie-living in-denial zombie, then who needs it anyway!

Her eyes wide and stunned, Mabel glances up at Aiden, whose arms are still around her waist, while her hands sit lifeless on his shoulders. She looks out into the sea of fellow dancing peeps and squints a little to herself, feeling stupid.

What… the heck is she even doing here?

Don't get her wrong, Aiden is awesome, Aiden is attractive and sweet and romantic and the list goes on forever practically but yikes, she still doesn't wanna be here with him— she doesn't wanna be with him at all.

Who she really wants to be with is at home reading a worn out mystery novel, or playing Monstermon Conquest on his DS, or browsing reddit threads about conspiracy theories for fun… or laying there listening to music, arms crossed behind his head, thinking about things… maybe about her?

Oh man, she needs to go home. This dumb over-hyped dance has suddenly become so low on her priorities list it's scary, and she needs to go home right now.

Mabel tugs out of Aiden's arms, taking a step back and wringing her hands.

"Aiden… Aiden I'm sorry, but I, I gotta leave."

His brows raise, and her tall, handsome, soon-to-be-ex boyfriend's winning smile starts to falter. "What's wrong? Do you feel sick or something?"

"No, I mean like… leave as in I gotta leave. Forever." Mabel dramatically turns away from him, takes a few steps. Then spins back around on her heel a second later with an apologetic look, almost knocking into a nearby dancing couple, awkwardly waving her hands. "N-not like forever forever, I'll probably see you in math Monday." She guiltily purses her lips to one side. "But I… I can't be your girlfriend anymore, and I'm really, really sorry…"

Aiden only stares at her, completely bewildered. "Mabel, what the hell? Are—are you breaking up with me right now?"

"Yes." She answers resolutely, then cringes a little. "Um, I know this is bad timing… I'm probably, definitely handling this really badly, I just… blargh, I'm so sorry, Aiden. But I… I really have to go." She weakly points a finger over her shoulder.

Aiden looks at her like she's got a tiny baby clown glued to her forehead. "…You're serious. You're actually breaking up with me. Here. In the middle of prom."

"Um… yeahh…" Mabel cringes at the floor, kicking herself for not thinking the sad break-up part of the night through even a little bit before she instigated it. Oh jeez, wrap it up, wrap it up Mabel— "I'm really, really, sorry."

Aiden doesn't respond, only barely shakes his head at her. The poor guy still seems so confused that words have been stricken out of him, he just keeps staring at her with that blank, vaguely angry look on his face. His blue eyes dart somewhere off to the side, then he frowns down at the dance floor.

"Um. I'm just gonna… see myself out… bye, Aiden." She leans forward to give him one last goodbye peck on the cheek, next hiking up her ruffly skirt and rushing past him before she can catch a glimpse of his expression. If she sees anymore of his reaction she won't be able to push the gross and guilty feelings down anymore, and she can't feel full-throttle horrible about breaking up with Aiden if she's going to fix the more pressing matter she's spent the last month and a half feeling gross and guilty about. Only like fifteen-percent-power horrible. Gotta… gotta put a pin in that one. For now she mollifies the gross-guilty-feels with the thought that Aiden deserves way better than what she could give to that relationship, anyway.

Gnawing on her bottom lip, fists full of tulle skirt, Mabel maneuvers her way through a sea of slow dancing couples, past the table with spiked punch and fancy cookies and finger foods, past a few of her friends, including Jenna, whose call she ignores. Her pace becomes faster and faster as she makes her way towards the exit, only one person and one thing on her mind.

Mabel bursts through the gym doors, cool night air greeting her as she continues to run, erupting with an exhilarated holler of "Freedommm!" The heads of the few people hanging around outside all spin in her direction, and she stops, putting on an embarrassed grin and shooting up two thumbs.

"It's cool! We're all cool here, carry on people." There's a beat of raised eyebrows and amused faces before everyone returns to their conversations or their phones and Mabel lets her thumbs drop.

Step one, leave the building—check. Step two, figure out a decent, non-horrible person way to tell Dipper something along the lines of heyyy broseph just kidding about all the weeks of turmoil and angst I actually do love you after all! …No, wait, that's step three. Step two would be to actually get home… somehow.

Mabel looks helplessly around the parking lot, her hands flopping at her sides, the muted beat of a pop song radiating from the brick walls behind her.

Oh, son of a buttnugget. How the heck is she supposed to get home?

She arrived in a limo that Aiden's parents paid for, so there's a very, very slim chance that she'll be able to catch a ride home the same way. 'Hey there friend, sorry for dumping you just now but is it cool if I borrow your limo? Just for a sec!'

Yeahhh, no.

It's too far and too dark to walk alone. Her parents are out of the question, they're an hour away in the city watching Aida. Mom loves musicals almost as much as she does; she and Dad left for their dinner-and-a-play date night right after they'd finished taking prom pics of Mabel and her now ex-boyfriend.

She racks her brain… maybe call Dipper to come pick her up? Mabel thinks on that for a moment before striking the idea. Nah, she wants to surprise him. Show up in his doorway a-la MJ in a wedding dress from Spider-Man 2 and uplift his lonely home-on-prom-night soul, then they could totally do that same sort of intense close-up open mouthed kiss thing—yes, perfect! There's a chance for some serious Hollywood level grand gestures of love here if she plays her cards right!

A gust of wind rolls through the parking lot, sending goosebumps across Mabel's bare shoulders and down her arms; the chill puts a bit of a halt to her brain's overexcited planning.

Okay. Okay. Calmmm down Mabel, you're getting a lil' ahead of yourself here. There's still the whole matter of Dipper's feelings, and newsflash— you have no idea what they are, anymore.

She broke his heart, like, completely. She… yeah, she is painfully aware of that little fact. Then basically ditched out on the mystery twins and left him to fend for himself with said broken heart. Yikes. It has been over a month and a half since the words 'I love you' came out of his mouth directed at her. And he did say all he wanted was the normalcy they've been working so desperately to get back to, that they have sort of been getting back to.

But… but maybe there's a chance he still doesn't?

Gotta get home!

Mabel's eyes skim her surroundings, frantically searching out a last ditch idea—and then her eyes land on a nearby bike rack. Particularly on one of the two bikes that aren't chained up. An idea strikes her.

Learn your lessons people; lock up your bikes.

That's how Mabel ends up pedaling away from her school on prom night in a giant, frilly dress, high heels dangling from one of her thumbs, the outside stragglers around the gym doors sending her retreating back weird looks all over again. Stuck to the newly empty spot on the bike rack is a star-shaped sticky note, words hastily scrawled out in loopy handwriting: 'Sorry, needed your bike, emergency, totes will return tomorrow! PS, I mean I'm glad you did and all, but who rides their bike to prom anyway?' Hearts and a quick drawing of a tubby unicorn were also added for good measure. Mabel Pines is no thief.

By the time her house comes into view, Mabel's former perfectly sculpted up-do is a windblown mess, and there are a few pieces of her dress' giant puffy skirt missing around the hem (multiple entanglements with the gears, not a fun experience). But her mood has stayed managed to stay excited, as she spent the entire ride playing out a scenario in her head wherein Dipper does still love her. The more she imagines it, the more she's thinking that he has to, right?

"IIIII'm comin for ya, Dip…" Mabel says aloud as she turns into their driveway, a little out of breath, a thin sheen of sweat on her brow. She cuts the handlebars into the grass and zooms the bike through their front yard, braking right in front of the azaleas next to the front steps. Her attempt to leap off the seat is foiled by the fact that a bit of her dress is caught in the gears again—"Eep!"— and she tips over into the bushes, bike and all.

"Owwie… wow, ooh, such grace, Lady Mabelton… nice—"

Soon she's standing on her front porch, feet still bare as she madly goes about brushing dirt and sticks and leaves out of her hair and off her dress. When it's the best it's gonna get, Mabel takes a jittery breath, digging a house key out of her purse.

Here goes nothin'.

The first thing she sees upon pushing through the front door is Dipper himself. The air catches in her lungs, a sudden bout of nerves overtaking her. Turns out he's not in his room after all, he's sprawled on the living room couch next to their thirteen-year-old tabby cat, Buttons, socked feet propped up on the coffee table, DS held between his hands.

"Mabel?" Dipper sits up in his seat a little, his eyes wide with shock.

"Sup, bro." They're the first words that came to mind, and not quite what she pictured first saying to him during the entire bike ride home. Well so much for my grand Hollywood entrance speech, she gripes in her head, pulling a rogue twig out of her hair.

"What are you doing here? It's only like," Dipper glances down at his watch, "ten-thirty. I thought prom went until eleven? And weren't you going to Brittney Ayers' after party… thing?"

Mabel waves a dismissive hand, tossing her heels in the small pile of shoes by the door, so done with the whole prom business. "Eh. You were right about prom. It was overrated. And I'm raincheckin' on the after party."

The wary expression on his face dissolves a bit. "Oh. Okay?"

He looks adorable, staring at her all confused-like. Her chest inflates with happiness at just the sight of him, sittin' there in sweatpants and a faded Fight Fighters t-shirt. With that cute pink nose and those big brown eyes and full, kissable lips… not to mention that baby's-first-goatee peach fuzz on his chin that she thinks is… she finally admits it to herself… hot. And all that fluffy chestnut hair that just looks so perfectly muss-able. Man. Gosh it's nice to let these thoughts fly free! Fly freeee, taboo thoughts, fly freeee, her mind cackles in a very Wicked Witch of the West like fashion.

…Oh, gosh, she wants to tell him.

"…Yooo, Mabel, anybody home in there?" Dipper's voice breaks through her zonked out train of thought.

"Whuzzat?"

"I asked how you got home. And frankly I'm a little scared to ask why you look like you've been running through the woods or something… this isn't gonna be like, some prom night horror story, is it?"

"Oh, I—" Mabel lets out an awkward giggle, immediately starting up round two of dusting herself off. "Psh, nah I'm fine, it's, y'know. Nooot important."

"Okaayyy…" Dipper tilts his head down a little and his eyes dart away from hers, "…Um, whatever happened to—"

"Me and Aiden broke up. We are officially doneski," She crosses her hands and flings them out in a sweeping motion, smothering the little knowing smile that wants to be on her face. She's gotta go about this delicately, she's decided. No grand declarations of love allowed, she's just gotta… eeease her way into this. Feel things out. Yeah. That's the plan.

"Wait, what?" Dipper's head jerks right back up. He frowns, sitting up worriedly and setting his DS down on the coffee table. "What happened? Did he—?"

"Calm down calm down, I was the dumper here, not the dumpee. Nothing bad happened, I just… kinda realized I wasn't feelin' it anymore, I guess. " Dipper's expression shifts from super-concerned to blank and he doesn't say anything to that. Mabel crosses her arms and makes a face. "Erm, I may have blindsided the guy a tiny bit."

"Yeahh, you have a little bit of a history of that," Dipper says kinda under his breath, letting out a dry laugh.

Mabel's eyebrows shoot up, surprised that her brother would be not only referencing, but joking about a subject that they usually avoid like the plague. Dipper catches onto her incredulity fast. His cheeks turn pink and he quickly drops eye contact, running a nervous hand through his hair.

"Sorry— I didn't mean— sorry."

Mabel marches over to where Dipper is hunched over on the couch, looking so pitifully ashamed, and punches his shoulder while blowing a raspberry, because she's so flippin' tired of this miserable, dumb 'age of shame' they've been stuck living in. There's no reason for it anymore, and she wants to declare it officially over. Forever. He peeks up at her, and she grins.

"Pff, it's cool, broseph. No worries." It really is nice to watch most of the tension leave Dipper's face as he timidly smiles back. Mabel begins to fiddle with the ruffles of her prom dress while the sound of commercials plays in the background. "…So uh, whatcha watchin'?"

"Oh- they're marathoning all the original Ducktective movies on SBT. On number two now…" Dipper bobs his head casually. There's a beat of hesitation before he continues, looking super-endearingly hopeful, "wanna watch with me?"

Mabel's heart swells. "You kidding? You had me at the mere mention of my favorite fowl detective!" Her eyes flit over the empty adjacent armchair before she thinks to heck with it and points to the spot next to Dipper on the couch, which is still occupied by their sleeping gray tabby. "Ey, mind if I couch it with you?"

Her brother raises his eyebrows in surprise, then grins warmly. "Go for it, but you might piss off Buttons. That spot was his before I even got here."

"As if, Buttons looooves me. I'm basically his human mommy." She picks up the old cat to cuddle him to her face, sitting down and taking him with her. But Buttons struggles hard, squirming out of her arms and dashing from the room. Dipper snorts out a laugh. Mabel waves off the cat snuffage, settling back into the couch, blowing the bangs out of her face. "Pfffff. He's just having an off day."

"Riight." Dipper reaches over and plucks a leaf out of her ruined prom 'do, smirking.

Silence settles between them as the movie returns from commercials… and Mabel doesn't feel that stifling awkward that usually fogs up the air when they're alone together for too long. Judging by the way he's flopped comfortably back into the couch, features content, Dipper doesn't feel it, either. Holy cow, this is like, above-and-beyond awesome. Tonight's the night things are noticeably turning around for the better, and it's such a huge relief.

Mabel starts to shimmy in her seat, trying to get more comfortable, the layers and layers of tulle on her gown crinkling and bunching up underneath her. "Yech, clearly this dress is not meant for sitting. Or comfort. Seriously man, I've had ruffles up my butt all night."

He laughs, and her heart swells at the sound. It feels so good to make him laugh.

"Butt ruffles aside, it looks good on you." Mabel automatically looks over to Dipper at the comment, but he's gazing intently at the television. It's difficult to hold in her thrilled squeak. He thinks she looks good! Well, he thinks her dress looks good. Although that makes her good-lookin' by default, right? And it's hard to tell since they're watching TV, but she's pretty sure he might be trying to avoid eye contact right now. All good signs, good good signs… but she still can't know for sure. Whether he's got the L-word goin' on for her or not.

…Ughh, she wants to know so badly!

Mabel decides to feel things out a little with some stealthily phrased sentences. "Ugh, it better. I spent eighty bucks of babysitting money on this thing, and like twenty more on my own genius personal touches, I at least better be lookin' pretty."

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Dipper grinning at the television. "Don't worry, you are."

"Ya got that right, son."

Hm. That whole exchange felt mildly flirty. And he's still not looking at her. But, not wanting to push, Mabel leaves it at that.

British accents, quacking, and their own laughter fills the room as they settle into the movie. Dipper starts making his usual commentary, Mabel delivers her usual arm smacks to get him to shut up so they can actually hear the dang movie. Everything feels so… normal.

Ecstatic at how well things are going, Mabel gets bold, stealthily scooting closer and closer to her brother until her head is resting on his shoulder and she can feel startled eyes staring down at her. Dipper is so obviously stiff and apprehensive, but she's determined to stay put, even with her heart beating out of control. Just when she starts to worry that maybe she jumped the gun with the boldness and the head-to-shoulder touching, she feels a cautious arm snake around to rest on the couch behind her shoulders. A few seconds later he makes a smart-alecky comment about the movie's lame special effects, and Mabel can't keep the smile off her face.

Yes. Good. This is the way things are supposed to be.

A half hour passes, the stiffness in Dipper's body eventually disappearing completely. His arm has migrated from the couch behind her to around her shoulders, her head snuggled into the crook of his neck, both of them sunk down comfortably into the couch. Everything has managed to stay so lighthearted and chill, she can hardly believe it. At this point Mabel feels so full of hope — earnest hope that she finally has her brother back, but also that giddy hope that she might be able to, possibly, have her cake and eat it too — that she's on the verge of bursting with it.

"I miss this," she says suddenly, breaking the comfortable quiet of the past ten minutes. Her eyes tilt up to his face. "I miss twin time. I gotta say, bro, I've been seriously lacking in twin time. This kills the Mabel."

"Yeah," Dipper says, his tone careful but sincere, "I miss it too."

"We could try doing stuff like this more often? If you want?"

Her ear is still pressed against his t-shirt and she's pretty sure she just felt his heart speed up. "Sure. Yeah, that'd be—" He stops and clear his throat mid-sentence. "I'd like that."

The atmosphere of the room has shifted a tiny bit. Mabel subtly takes a deep breath in mental preparation. Something is telling her that if she's going to ask, she should do it now.

"…Hey, Dipper?"

"Yeah?"

C'monnnnn Mabel girl… ask him. Just do it.

"…I was wondering, er, I wanted to know. Are you still, um…" Oh jeez, she's fumbling, here. Her mouth goes dry and she licks her lips, forcing out the question she's been dying to know the answer to. "…do you still like, you know… loove me?"

Judging by how severely his body tenses up, Dipper clearly wasn't expecting to be asked that particular question. Staring down at her, stunned, his face heats up into a glorious shade of red, while his mouth stays shut. Her heart gathers more speed as she convinces herself that these all have to be good signs, right?

"Really, it's okay. You can tell me, Dip," she coaxes, sitting up to look at him properly, doing her best not to give away the fact that she's hoping for one answer in particular. "Either way I'm not gonna freak out like last time, I promise."

He stares blankly at her a couple more seconds, and then his eyes begin to shift, looking anywhere but at hers. Mabel can feel the palm on her shoulder grow moist just before Dipper awkwardly takes his arm back, instead hunching forward to rest his elbows on his knees and wring his hands in his lap. The silence is admittedly starting to make her the bad kind of nervous, as it's giving her too much time to question in her head whether or not it was a mistake to ask him such a huge, personal question so bluntly. The chill, comfortable vibes they'd been basking in dried up so alarmingly quickly, wayyy faster than Mabel was prepared for. Now she's sort of hating herself for killing them, missing them already, and she still has no idea what's going through his head but poor Dipper looks so uncomfortable, when just a minute ago he was looking happier than she'd seen him in a long time– augh, okay, so she might've read the room wrong before. Maybe this isn't the moment, maybe this is just yet another not-thought-through-Mabel-blunder. Her steadily depleting confidence causes her brain-mouth connection to suffer a malfunction and the babbles come pouring out at the exact same time Dipper finally opens his mouth to speak.

"Um–"

"–I mean you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I was just sort of curious but not in like a rrrr-I'm-gonna-judge-you way more like in a eyyy-just-checkin-in-on-things way, like just sayin' if you need someone to talk to about stuff I'm all ears cuz you're my brother and I love you no matter what and I should've been telling you that this whole time and I'm so sorry I haven't been and my bad I cut you off, what were you gonna say?"

Mabel gasps in a breath to recover from that epic mouthful, while Dipper blinks at her a few times, bewildered, his eyebrows sky-high. "I– uh, thiiink I caught all of that? But– okay, wow, uh- thanks?" He scrunches up his eyes for a second and shakes his head, "I mean no, that wasn't supposed to come out sarcastic, seriously, thanks. That is, actually really nice to hear."

He quirks a grateful little smile in her direction, his eyes shimmering and crinkling at the corners, warming her insides all over– oh gosh, she loves this awkward, amazing person, it's becoming harder and harder not to just blurt it out. "Well I really really meant it, bro," Mabel tells him sincerely, reaching over and covering the hands still clasped together in his lap with one of hers.

Dipper opens his mouth a little like he's about to say something, but just ends up making this weird, vaguely confused face, his eyebrows rising back up on his forehead as he silently stares down at her small, manicured hand on his. There's a pause that lasts a couple seconds too long. Hookay, awk silence, gosh you are really pushin' it with the touching, huh– Mabel gives his hands a friendly, hasty squeeze and makes a quick retreat, color rising in her cheeks. Bluh. Getting majorly sidetracked, here. "But, uh, so, would youuu maybe want to talk about it? You know, the um, loove thing?"

Dipper's face falls into a wince, "ah, right. The love thing."

Mabel watches him heave a sigh, and it's impossible to tell if it's a resigned sigh or an annoyed sigh or a nervous sigh or what– she bites her lip, anxiously playing with a piece of ripped tulle on her dress, "blargh, sorry, if you're not comfortable talking about it–"

"No no, it's fine, really. I guess before I just wasn't, um… I mean jeez, you are blunt to a fault, Mabes," he laughs, juuust shy of normally, a high, sort of straining sound. She giggles along with him, also just missing the normal-laugh mark because she is this close to getting an answer out of him, to finally knowing, she can feel it, and it's getting infinitely more difficult to stay cool and keep the angry swarm of butterflies (they feel more like bees right now actually) in her tummy under wraps.

They quit with the weird laughter at the same time. Dipper glances over at her out of the corner of his eye, and Mabel catches his eyes and cocks her head at him expectantly. Maybe a little too expectantly, but she can't help it, her heart's beating so fast she feels like she might keel over, "So, are you…"

His eyes dart away. "Uh… right. Uh, well I mean," he clears his throat, "getting over you was… it wasn't exactly–I mean it definitely took me some time, but… at this point, yeah, I think it's safe to say that I'm past the whole, 'feelings for my sister' life chapter," he rasps out a dry chuckle, shrugs and scratches his chin. "I just feel like I'm finally— like, I'm finally in a place where we can actually start getting back to normal, you know?"

Throughout his whole explanation Mabel's heart was locked in a free fall, plummeting faster and faster with every word that came out of his mouth– and when Dipper finishes talking, it finally meets the bottom of her stomach with a big, grisly, ker-splat.

Just like that, she has her answer.

Getting over you.

O-oh. Ouch.

The stinging words linger in Mabel's ears as she starts to blink rapidly. God, he sounded so relieved. Finally free from the Mabel-love burden, rejoiiiice. Her lower lip quivers. Ah. Crap. Dipper really doesn't love her anymore. Not in the way she's just realized she loves him.

Pff, silly Mabel. Of course he doesn't love you. Why would he, after everything? After weeks and weeks of being spurned? After she'd sought him out, willingly took him up on the offer of his heart, and then threw it back in his face with an extra painful curveball? After she came into his room, slept with him, kissed him in reassurance, let him fall asleep in her arms, basically gave him a promise that everything would be okay… and then turned around and ran, like a scared little girl, back into the arms of her boyfriend the very next morning? Like, right in front of his face? Blech, who could ever love someone who does things like that? No one.

It's perfectly reasonable. He went through a heck of a lot to get to this point, dangit, he earned this. It's what he thinks she wants anyway, which is probably part of the reason why he sounded so… happy's not the right word, but… ugh, he sure wasn't sad to share the news with her, either. And, hey, it's what she should want. So it's very unfair of her to feel like she's just been gut-punched. Yikes. She's a sucky person, huh.

Dipper turns toward her with a smile fixed on his lips, only to be greeted with Mabel's eyes brimming with tears. The half smile drops so fast it's as if it was never there, his whole expression falling with it. His hand reaches out to her, scared and uncertain, hovering near her arm for a bit before just barely touching her shoulder.

"Aw Mabel, no, please don't cry… I'm so sorry I made everything so goddamn weird but I promise you it's over, you don't have to–"

"Nonono," Mabel blurts, needing more than anything for her brother to not finish that sentence, because he doesn't even know what's happening and still thinks it's his fault somehow. And she's a terrible, terrible person. "No," she continues, sniffing heavily and swiping the back of her hand under her nose, "it's nothing you did, you're totally fine, bro. You just… you just happen to have gotten stuck with the most horrible jerkface in the universe for a sister, that's all."

"The entire universe?" Dipper laughs weakly, scratching the side of his face, "that seems a little harsh, don'tcha think?" She shakes her head vigorously, a tear breaking its way out of the dam in her eyes, and the halfhearted joking stops there. "Mabel, what's wrong?" He pleads.

Oh no. The words are right there, right on the tip of her tongue. And he's staring right at her, with that worried, genuine look on his face where all he wants is to know the truth. But she can't tell him. She shouldn't…all it would do is make things worse. They'd be thrown right back into the same crappy situation, just with the roles reversed. She gnaws on the inside of her cheek, the truth itching to burst out.

Don't you dare tell him, Mabel Pines!

But it looks like she's gonna be staying true to her 'most horrible jerkface in the universe' title, as the words have already decided to form themselves into sentences and are on the verge of forcing their way out.

She shrugs her shaky shoulders and looks down, attempting a smile. "Ahh, it's just… I dunno, it's ironic, you know? When my stupid dumb self finally decides to figure out that woah, heyyy, look at that, I am in love with my brother, whoopsie, my brother's not in love with me anymore! Haha, it's like an awkward circle of loooove, or something…" Smacking her forehead dramatically, she lets out a high-pitched sound that's supposed to be a laugh. "Doh! Nice going there Mabel, ya took too stinkin' long! What a dope, right!"

Mabel tries to follow up her little speech with more laughter, but only manages a few chuckles before she ends up choking on one of them. Her throat closes up, two streams of tears making their way down her cheeks. Oh, crap, here come the waterworks, and she's not going to be able to turn them off for a while. She hugs herself, sniffing audibly. She's horrible, horrible, horrible.

Dipper takes his hand off her shoulder, his mouth hanging open and his eyes impossibly wide. "…You love me?" He mumbles in a faraway tone.

She can't look at him anymore. She doesn't deserve to. Mabel scoots along the couch in the opposite direction and curls away, covering her face with her hands. "Ohgodohgod…" she shakes her head, her voice cracked and muffled, "I'm s-sorry, Dipper, I know I have like, zero right to be telling you this now, not after what happened, not after everything I p-put you through, but I just— I couldn't— I didn't know h-how to—" She shudders out a helpless, miserable sound, scrunching up her hands into fists and knocking them lightly against her forehead, "ugh, I'm the worst sister ever and if you hate me or never wanna talk to me again I'd get it, honestly, you don't need to—"

"Woah woah, hey— just—" Dipper scoots down the couch after her, his hands reaching out to cup either side of her face, gently turning it back towards his. The awestruck look that she's met with shuts her right up. "Mabel," he breathes, bringing his face in closer to hers, "Holy shit, Mabes, I— I was lying before."

"What…?"

Dipper cracks a shy smile, and she swears her heart almost stops. "Yeahh, um, when I said I was over you? That was just me telling you what I thought you wanted to hear because I miss you, and I wanted things to be okay with us again… but no, yeah, I definitely still love you, Mabel."

"Whaaa? For reals?" The tears are still coming and she's not sure why, because she's also smiling so widely that her cheeks hurt.

"Oh man, yeah," Dipper murmurs, his thumbs brushing away any wayward tears, "so much it's uh, it's pretty pathetic, actually."

Mabel lets the words sink in. Dipper had been lying, for her. Just doing his overprotective brother thing. He's not over her at all. He still loves her, still wants her. He never stopped.

She giggles thickly, hiccuping, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she gazes into his. "Hey, pathetic's okay. I-I like pathetic."

Dipper lets out an appreciative laugh, brushing her hair behind her ears and still looking into her eyes with that amazed, totally-blown-away expression on his face. "Holy shit," he repeats with hushed awe, "this is really happening. I'm not dreaming. You mean it, you actually…?"

Mabel nods, licking her lips and staring back at him, hardly daring to blink. "Yeah, I do."

She can hear the breath hitch in his throat, his lips curving in a wobbly fashion, spreading further and further across his face until he's smiling this bazillion-watt smile that immediately strikes Mabel with the need to giggle with pure joy. So she does, and Dipper starts to laugh too, high and airy, still holding her face in his hands and looking at her like someone just handed him the winning lotto numbers and the exact GPS coordinates of the location of Bigfoot at the same time.

"Oh my god," he says in between giggles.

Mabel snorts in the last of the tear-induced snot, nodding with barely-contained excitement, laughing, "chyeah bro, agreed!"

The laughter dies down comfortably, Dipper's mega-smile gradually fading as his eyes drop down to her lips. As he stares, his tongue pokes out to wet his own, Mabel unblinkingly honing in on the tiny action without realizing it. Their eyes flit back up, meeting for a few seconds. Dipper swallows and carefully moves closer, until their noses brush gently and Mabel's heart is flapping around behind her ribs like a caged butterfly. "Can I kiss you?" He whispers.

At first Mabel is confused, wondering why he's even bothering to ask. Then she remembers the past month and a half, sees the slight tension in his forehead, the cautious vulnerability still shining in his eyes, and the answer becomes very, very clear to her.

So rather than with words, Mabel responds by closing her eyes and smoothly easing her lips onto his, all of it meant as an unspoken assurance of yes, of course you can, you don't have to be afraid anymore, you can kiss me and I'll kiss you back and this time I'm not going to run away afterwards. Dipper's lips come springing to life against hers, his fingers diving into her hair, reverently cradling the back of her neck as he tilts his head and leans into her. It's a slow, gentle kiss, yet at the same time so deliciously and knee-buckingly thorough, making Mabel's fingers curl into his shirt and her body want to float about ten feet off the ground. All those same warm, tingling sparks come rushing back to her, and she can't believe it's been so long since the last time they did this, can't believe it took her this long to figure it out.

Soon Dipper is carefully separating their lips in a way that leaves her swooning and lightheaded. Her eyes have just fluttered back open when she feels arms encircle her back and a head covered with messy, curly brown hair bury itself in the junction of her neck and shoulder. Mabel swallows down the urge to cry happy tears as she lays her head against his and fiercely returns the embrace.

"Man. Didn't think I was ever gonna get to do that again," Dipper murmurs into her shoulder, and he hugs her a little tighter.

Her heart sinks a bit at the comment and she shuts her eyes tight, hiding her face in his hair. "Blargh, I really am sorry Dipper, I haven't been able to get that morning out of my head—"

"Hey, no, I didn't mean it like that," he soothes, his hands rubbing up and down her back with soft, comforting motions, "it's okay."

"No, it's really not, like I don't get it, how can you forgive me so easily after everything I—"

"—Mabel, seriously, I promise you it's okay. I mean…pff, just remembering how in denial I was when I was first realizing I had not-so-normal feelings for you… I should never have taken us that far that fast when I kind of knew you weren't totally, uh… you know. Where I was." He shakes his head, "that wasn't right, no matter how you look at it. Like honestly, I'm just happy that you don't—" Dipper stops himself abruptly, breathing out thickly and turning to press his face into her hair. "… I'm just happy you're here, Mabes."

Mabel's eyebrows knit together as she gently runs her fingers through his hair, causing a shudder to run down Dipper's spine. "See, you're doing it again, that thing where you take all the blame for yourself. Why can't you just admit that this was just as much my fault as— ohh snap…"

Soft lips press against her pulse, the immediate rushing sensation in her tummy fizzling out her sentence. She melts against him as he delicately kisses her neck, so spellbound that all she can really do is hold him a little tighter, cooing out a "Dip," through an amorous sigh.

Eventually his lips go still. Mabel shivers when they move again, this time words accompanying them, tickling at her skin. "Y'know, at this point, I really don't give a crap whose fault it was," Dipper says. "Right now I just want to hug you… damn, I missed you, Mabel. Life is straight up boring when you're not around lighting it up with your weird sweaters and your snorty laugh and… your creepily endless supply of glitter and stickers and… just—all of it. I missed all of it." He laughs softly, dropping a kiss just below her ear. "Man, I love you."

"Dipperrrr," Mabel giggles bashfully, blushing up a storm, "ugh, stop saying such sweet things, you sickeningly sweet sweet-talkin little man. Yeesh. I'm gonna get a friggin cavity."

Dipper just laughs some more as he pulls away from her neck, grinning ear to ear. They lock eyes, back to smiling at each other like goofy goobers, and before either of them knows it they're both leaning in, lips meeting hard in the middle. Mabel suddenly feels the need to make up for all the kisses they should've been sharing for over a month already, and it shows in the way she clutches him closer, tilts her head further, fearlessly sweeps her tongue in his mouth. Her lips move with a ferocity that she can feel him almost scrambling to keep up with, her hands raking through his hair. A giddy sense of victory fills her up when Dipper moans low in his throat, his fingertips digging into the back of her dress. The hoarse, longing sound hits Mabel right in the lower belly, making her heart beat double-time, and she whimpers out a tiny, entirely pleased sound in response.

That dumb ol' need for oxygen is the only reason she pulls her mouth away from his, totally breathless. She opens her eyes to find Dipper breathing hard, his face very red and his eyes still very much closed. When they blearily blink their way open, Mabel can't help but giggle at the vacant expression on his face, one that could only be described as severely, terminally lovestruck. A thrill rushes through her, because you can't fake stuff like that. What he's feeling is real, and she she can hardly comprehend that it's all for her.

"…Well shit. Yup. Definitely, definitely still in love with you." Dipper's ears flush and he glances down towards his lap, a small, sheepish laugh bubbling out of him. Mabel slips a finger underneath his fuzzy chin, tilting his face back up to hers.

"Aww shucks. Ah love yew too lil' baybeh bruhther," she singsongs in a falsetto Lil' Gideon voice, pushing his cheeks together and batting her eyelashes at him, and there's a short pause before Dipper breaks it with a snort and they both start giggling again.

They share a few more softer kisses after that, but mostly there's just a whole lot hugging and cuddling going on. Warm, firm, Dipper hugs. Ah, she missed them so much.

They doze off together on the couch with Mabel listening to Dipper's heartbeat, her cheek pressed against his chest, one of his arms draped around her. Ductective 2: The Adventure of the Duckgate Miracle transitions into Ducktective 3: The Adventure of the Duckford Horror, but neither twin notices, both of them exhausted. She doesn't even poke him when Dipper starts to snore lightly, too sleepy and too comfortable to lift a finger. It's been a long month.

Later, Mabel's eyes crack open and then fly shut again when the lock on the front door starts to jangle, signifying their parents' arrival home. She doesn't worry about moving since her and Dipper's nap position is still in the platonic green zone, instead dedicating her efforts to feigning sleep. There's the sound of the front door opening and closing, then footsteps walking over to stand next to the couch.

"Wasn't Mabel supposed to be sleeping over at her friend's tonight?"

"I thought so… but I gotta say, it's good to see these two hanging out again."

"I was just thinking the same thing. Aww. My sleeping babies."

She feels her bangs being brushed aside, closely followed by Mom's lips on her forehead, hearing Dipper receive the same forehead kiss right after. Someone lays a blanket over them, there's some rustling in the kitchen, and then two pairs of footsteps are retreating up the stairs. Once everything has gone quiet again (aside from muted quacks coming from the television), Mabel feels Dipper's fingers start to slowly trickle up and down the bare skin of her arm, and she smiles.

Whoo, boy. Little do they know.

Just as she predicted, Mabel sees Aiden in seventh period math class on Monday. Awkwardly enough, the seating arrangement in that class leaves her right in between him and Jenna, who both seemed intent on giving her the cold shoulder. Her gossipy redheaded friend must have heard about her whole dramatic prom exit and decided to take Aiden's side. To be honest Mabel doesn't give a rat's ass about being ignored by Jenna, but she does feel a little icky (horrible) about how she ended things with her ex-boyfriend, sad to have lost his friendship.

Over the weekend Aiden sent her a string of texts demanding answers, and then a longer string of texts that sounded just plain desperate, culminating with a long-ish awkward phone call on Sunday that seemed to cut the bf-gf ties between them for good. The whole break up process made her squirm with guilt; for a good while there, she had been convinced that Aiden was her dream boy (a concept that just sounds silly to her now, since the sappy, overly-mushy title doesn't really fit Dipper), so she felt terrible about having to keep her explanations so vague. But it's not like she can just say, look Aiden, gonna be straight with ya here, I sorta left you for my brother—that definitely would not fly. The poor guy is just gonna have to deal with a vague break up.

By the time the end of class rolls around, Aiden has moved seats, and Mabel has sunk low in her chair.

She breathes a sigh of relief when the final bell rings and she's free of horribly awkward Algebra 2. She books it out of there and meets up with her friend Leigh to make the journey across the school to their lockers; Leigh fills her in with more details about the drama that went down at Brittney Ayers' after prom party (thankfully not grilling her too badly for Aiden-break-up details, unlike the rest of her friends). Listening to the after prom stories, she really can't say she's sad she missed out on it.

Mabel waves goodbye to Leigh upon reaching her locker, opening it and digging around inside. She exchanges a couple books in her pink backpack for others, then adjusts her ladybug headband using the hanging mirror inside the locker door. Her eyes mosey over the various things she's decorated her locker with—feathers, jewels, stickers, pictures of her and her friends, magazine cutouts, a picture of her, Dipper, Stan and Soos posing in front of the Mystery Shack—finally landing on a picture of her and Aiden. She bites her lip and her hand darts out to seize the photo out of its place and stuff it into a pile of unorganized papers at the bottom of her locker. When she stands back up, someone taps her shoulder.

The teenaged girl turns to see her brother leaning against the locker next to hers, ball cap on his head, a strap of his backpack slung casually over one shoulder. The hallway bustle goes dull in her ears for just a second, her heart fluttering.

"Hey Mabes," Dipper says, giving her another one of those meaningful smiles he's been shooting at her all day.

Mabel sends one right back at him, tapping his arm with a friendly fist. "Heyyy, you."

The two of them have only been in a—she squeals inwardly— relationship for two full days, but she can already see a change in Dipper. An invisible kink has been knocked out of his back, and the dark circles under his eyes seem much less noticeable, now that they don't have to tiptoe around each other anymore; now that the constant fog of fear between them has evaporated, and there are no more secrets. Romantic stuff aside, he's acting like himself around her again, she can tell, and it makes her so screamin' happy, she can barely contain it.

Admittedly it is kinda weird having a boyfriend she can't tell anyone about… especially when her previous relationship was pretty much everybody's business. Keeping a secret this big and important from everybody is a little daunting when she thinks about it too hard. But he's so worth it.

And on the other hand, there's something about having a secret boyfriend that's sort of thrilling, hidden meaning inside their public interactions that leave her feeling warm and floaty. She thinks of earlier, during her and Dipper's only shared class, 1st period English. They always sit next to each other in the back row of desks pushed together in twos (even when they weren't really speaking, 'cause moving desks is a pain, yo), so no one was behind them to see her pinkie stroke his in the middle of class, under the pretense of reaching for her fuzzy purple pen that just happened to roll over to where her twin's hand was resting on the desk (she'd flicked it over there). Dipper's eyes had glanced over to meet hers for not even a full second before they shot back down to the thick book that held the play they were reading aloud in class that day. But his cheeks held the tiniest hint of color, and he hadn't moved his hand away. And if she's lame for getting such a rush from English class pinkie touching, then so be it.

"You good to get outta here?" Dipper asks.

"Mmmyeah, but don't you have Mathletes on Mondays?"

"Eh, I was thinking I'd ditch today."

"Ooh, look at you all rebellious." She grins at him and pushes her locker door shut. "Alright, sure bruhbs, lez ditch this popsicle stand."

The two siblings walk side by side through the halls, filling each other in about their days. Mabel tells Dipper about how she totally killed it in improv during drama class earlier, reenacting all the funniest parts of the scene for him, pointedly avoiding a mention of Aiden-math-class-weirdness (her bro gets all stiff and tight-lipped whenever the subject of her ex comes up, so she tries to keep Aiden-related talk to the absolute bare minimum). Once they're out the front doors of the school, they hold their backpacks over their heads and sprint their way through the vast junior class parking lot, fat raindrops pelting them as they race for their old, well-loved blue minivan. Hidden inside the maze of vehicles and cloaked by the misty rain, when she's sure no one else is walking by, Mabel steals a peck to Dipper's cheek. He stutters, scolds her lightly for it, but looks pleased anyway.

Turns out neither of them are in the mood to go straight home on this rainy Monday. They swing by a drive thru instead and Dipper buys them Pitts and sundaes, before driving to a nearby park that they've been going to since they were little kids. The parking lot is empty aside from one other car—probably because of the rain—and Dipper eases their van into a corner spot, as far away from it as he can get.

At first Mabel proposes a frolic-in-the-rain walk, but he shoots her down, whining something about the rain and pneumonia. So she relaxes back into her seat, flicking off her shoes to prop her bare feet up on the dashboard, loudly devouring her strawberry ice cream. Dipper falls into another one of his rants about the latest way he was wronged by his creepy, out-to-get-him, weird-haircutted, totally-unfair-grader of an AP US history teacher, talking with his hands without realizing it, making her giggle. It's not long before her rather large cup becomes empty, aside from some pink dribble at the bottom.

"–Completely evil, like no joke, I don't even know if this is worth the college credit anymore. I bet you anything the guy has like, a refrigerator full of body parts in his basement or something," Dipper audibly shivers, "eugh, you can see it in his dead, hollow eyes–"

"I need sugarrrrrr," Mabel whines, interrupting her brother mid-sentence, bouncing in her seat. "Sugarsugarsugar."

"Were you even listening to anything I said?"

"Ayup, bodies in Mr. Yanovich's fridge. Now give me sugar. Gimmegimme. Ahhh," she opens her mouth and madly points inside with both fingers.

Dipper takes another bite from his own cup of chocolate vanilla swirl, rolling his eyes and talking over the spoon in his mouth. "Jeez Mabel, I already got you your own monster-sized ice cream, you're not getting any of mine." He takes out the spoon and points it accusingly in her direction, "the amount of sugar you regularly consume in a day scares me. You need an intervention."

Mabel gives him a look and swipes a finger along the bottom of her empty cup. "Uhhm, I wasn't talking about that kind of sugar, bro." And the melted ice cream-covered finger gets popped in her mouth.

Maybe she might be selling the finger-lickin' show a little too hard. It's hard to tell. Obvious, outright flirting with Dipper is still new to her, and Mabel is still in the process of feeling out what she's comfortable with, stuff he likes, what he's into. But if this is overkill, she really doesn't care, because she's loving the way he reacts to her anyway– his eyes all wide and his face all 'doiiiii' and goofy, how he turns pink as he watches her slowly draw her clean finger out from between her lips, his jaw hanging open a little.

"O-oh?" comes Dipper's delayed response, a couple seconds after her finger leaves her mouth with a 'pop.'

"Mhmm." Back into the cup the finger goes. This time she uses it to dab melted strawberry ice cream on the tip of Dipper's nose, lunging with a squawk of laughter to lick it off before he can really react. He makes a face, snapping out of wherever his brain just went.

"Eww. No nose licking allowed."

"Hey, I'll lick your nose if I wanna, pal," Mabel declares, her face still hovering in front of his, right before she surges forward to give him a hard, quick, strawberry kiss on the lips. She darts away almost as soon she swooped in, and Dipper's neck cranes across the center console after her as he tries his damnedest to catch her retreating mouth with his– but he can't quite keep up. Mabel dissolves into snorty giggles when they both open their eyes and realize how awkwardly far he's leaning into her seat space, while Dipper hurriedly moves back into his own seat, looking flustered.

"Uhm- right, so," he says in an overly casual, clearly-trying-to-save-face way, "were we done with that for now, or–"

"I'm sorry, did you want to share with me, now?" Mabel teases, crossing her arms, sniffing and turning away from him, "I thought you said I wasn't getting any sugar? Come on, now you're just flip-flopping on me, bro. I don't know what to think anymore."

His mouth opens, and he points an accusing finger at her– and then his mouth snaps shut, and the pointing hand flops into his lap, his blushing face an annoyed, deadpan expression of defeat. He sighs through his nose, squinting at her as he tries to figure her out. Mabel grants herself a single victory smile, but afterwards cuts her beautifully-awk brother some slack, leaning back towards him and grabbing his hand. The poor guy is still so hesitant about initiating stuff with her, which is pretty much all her fault, so she could probably stand to let up with the teasing (it's so hard to remember to do that though, messing with Dipper is like second nature to her).

"Just kidding, you know I'm all for some Dip-lip-action right now. Like, a hundred-ten-percent alllll for it," a sultry smile spreads across Mabel's face, one eyebrow cocking. "Honestly, I'm kinda surprised we didn't start makin' out as soon as we parked. I mean, I just assumed that's why you drove us out here."

His face looks caught in some odd limbo between guilty and about to laugh. "I was… waiting for the right moment."

"Uh huh. Well, obviously."

She cups his cheeks, pulling his warm, adorable lips onto hers with a pleased, "hmmm." Dipper responds instantly, his fingers reaching up to skim her jaw and thread through her hair as he presses into her with such enthusiasm that she's almost thrown off balance. She giggles against his mouth, grabbing his shoulders and kissing him harder because he is obviously in need of a reminder who the alpha twin is, here.

When they part with a wet smacking noise, Mabel's ladybug headband is crooked, while Dipper's hat has mysteriously disappeared from his head.

"Wanna backseat it?" She asks with an eyebrow wiggle, breathless.

"You know I do," Dipper says cheerfully, wearing a grin that shows off teeth.

They clamber into the backseat of their van, Dipper's ice cream long forgotten on the dashboard, laughing and climbing all over one another. Eventually Dipper gets himself situated in the middle seat and Mabel plops herself down in his lap, the fabric of her flowy skirt draping over his legs, his hands resting on her hips. The laughter dies away, her brother taking in a shuddering breath as she gently brushes her nails down the front of his shirt.

Mabel smiles knowingly at him, and sweetly leans in for a kiss.

Things get pretty quiet aside from the sound of raindrops hitting the roof of the van. His tongue finds its way into her mouth, and she sighs in approval.

They ease apart, silly grins spread across their blushing faces. "Now those are the noms I been craving." Mabel says quietly, making Dipper's smile stretch even wider before he eagerly leans in for more.

Kissing him feels as good as it always does. And he tastes like ice cream which is a bonus. But as the minutes pass and Dipper's hands have still strayed no further than her back and waist, Mabel is left almost squirming in her seat, aching to take things at least just a little further.

She sighs inwardly. They've made out a pretty decent amount since Friday night and by now she can't help but notice that her bro seems to be making a conscious effort to take things super-sloth-slow, this time around. Ahemhem. As in, physically. Seriously. Not even a single boob graze has taken place. Dippinsauce has unmistakably been keepin' those hands to himself.

Yeah, it's only been a few days. And sure, Mabel understands his reasoning. Look what happened last time, they took things at lightning speed and then everything went sour, yadayadayada. But man, there were extenuating circumstances wrapped up in that whole mess—ones that have been very much resolved—so for Pete's sake, she's already had a taste of the good stuff and now she just wants him to touch her already… c'mon, she knows for a fact Dipper's got it in 'im! She wants to feel his hands on her skin again, she wants to hear him make those breathy noises and see that ugly-cute face she's always thinking about late at night… sweet Moses, she wants it an embarrassing amount, so dang it, it's time to get this here show on the road!

With plenty of desire to fuel her confidence, Mabel lifts herself up for a second only to scoot forward and sit right back down on her twin's crotch, pressing their hips together. She has to stifle a laugh– well wouldn'tcha know it, he's already hard. Looks like she was not wrong about Dipper holding back. The dork.

"M-mmh–" Dipper's fingers tighten on her waist, his lips detaching from hers to breathe out shakily. Mabel moves back. His brown eyes peek open and he looks at her with this half guilty, half hopeful, and fully adorable lopsided grin, his face all flushed. Oof. That grin does things to her, man. She quirks a 'gotcha' eyebrow at him, smiling back a little bit shyly.

"Haha, yeahh," he says, turning red, "sorry, I'm a little–"

Mabel definitely does not want to hear her brother finish apologizing for poking her ('cos seriously man, bring on the bro-ner pokes!), so to shut him up she slowly, slooowly rocks on him again, keeping her eyes fixed on his. To his credit Dipper shuts right up with the apology, finally getting the picture. Instead she manages to get a soft moan out of him, which leaves her feeling both victorious and very, very fired up.

Uhmm, yeah. She's definitely gonna need more of that stuff right there. A-s-a-p, dawg.

As if reading her mind, Dipper grips her waist and rolls up his hips, the bulge in his shorts rubbing under the folds of her skirt in just the right spot. She gasps out a giggle, scratching her nails down his chest again. Dipper bites down hard on his lower lip.

"Oh man, Mabes, you're killin' me," he whispers, his eyelids fluttering shut.

Mabel responds with quiet-yet-villainous laughter, peppering kisses all over his face. "Yesss, gooood."

He bucks again a bit over-excitedly and sort of misses the mark – thrust-gone-rogue – and she can't help but snort another louder laugh. Dipper goes redder and laughs breathily, "hey, shut up." But he third time he does it, he sure as heck does not miss; Mabel visibly shudders and sighs, her fingers grabbing out of their own accord to clutch the upholstery of the seat behind his shoulders. O-oh, heck yea… now this is more like it. Mabel hums out a little sensual giggle as she nips at his earlobe, then presses her lips to his neck, feeling him shiver. His skin is warm and sort of clammy. He's definitely on the verge of breaking out into a sweat.

She takes a small patch of said clammy skin between her teeth, and as soon as she starts to lightly suck, his hips jerk again. This time she meets him halfway, grinding down hard and rocking back and forth as he arches himself up.

"Ah, shit," Dipper hisses, his head falling back against the top of the tiny middle-seat headrest, while she throws herself into kissing him up and down his neck. She can feel him throb through his shorts where he's pressed snugly against the crotch of her underwear. He's super-duper hard. Ohhh snap.

"Mmmshorts—lose the shorts, bro— chop chop, make haste, pleeease," Mabel sing-song whines, quickly scooching back on his thighs and leaning against one of the front seats as she waits for the unnecessary shorts to be poofed away, her eyes closed and her breathing heavy.

"R-right—yes, yeah," Dipper stammers, already fumbling with his belt.

Dang. Well clearly it's been too long since they last felt each other in this particular way, because not even thirty seconds later Dipper's shorts are down around his ankles and Mabel's skirt is bunched up at the waist and both their hips are rocking pretty hard and fast, nothin' but thin cotton underwear keeping them apart from the good stuff (she knows she must be really in the mood because she has zero urge to give Dip a hard time about his tighty-whities, seriously, none at all, it's a miracle). His lips seek out hers again and again for wet, searing, impatient kisses, the kind of kisses that leave Mabel breathless and giddy, the kind that make her want to moan aloud.

"I missed you," he pants against her mouth the next time they break apart. Mabel feels herself blush and throb at the words, knowing exactly what he meant by that.

"Mm- I missed you too–" she barely finishes getting out the words before Dipper frantically mashes their lips together again.

After all those nights with only her fingers and memory-Dipper for company – where she would desperately try to recall the exact way he felt, but always sort of miss the mark – the feeling of real-life Dipper, all warm and thick and moving between her legs, even if it's just the outline of him through fabric, is mind-numbingly satisfying. It fogs up her head, consumes her whole body with a rosy, blissful heat, making her feel all tingly and floaty and like nothing can bring her down. Soon she's hearing herself whine, "why aren't you touching me. Touch me," her voice dreamy and faraway to her own ears. Before he can say a word she kisses him deeply and says, "I want you," then another wet kiss happens (he moans through that one), with one more whisper, "to touch me," after that.

Hooboy. Aroused, walkin-on-air Mabel sure is forward. But real-life Dipper sure is into it, so it all works out. The movement of his hips falters as he rasps out a high-pitched, barely audible, "oh my god, Mabel," under his breath as she feels his length twitch between her legs again, the twitchiest twitch she's felt so far, which is, guh, an illegal amount of hot. Dip opens his eyes halfway and nods at her, his eyes looking pretty darn foggy, too. He might've kept going with the dumbstruck nodding forever if she hadn't reached up and taken his face in her hands, stilling him, giggling softly. He seems to come back to himself a little and breathes out a quiet, sort of choked giggle as well.

Their foreheads press together, and Mabel closes her eyes, snaking her arms around his neck, leaning into him. His hands, only a little bit shaky, brush down along the hem of her baby blue tank top, before they slip underneath it. Very, very delicately, he traces his fingers up the soft skin of her tummy, trickles them along her ribs, runs his hands down her sides and back up. His palms are damp, and his hips have stilled, as if all his focus is being dedicated to the feel of her skin, but she doesn't mind the sweaty hands (her brother's hands are always sweaty, it's just the way of the world, she's used to it) and fills the achy void of movement between them by rolling her hips over him in slow, deep little circles.

He groans and quickly closes the gap between their lips, heatedly rolling their tongues together. There's one last second of hesitation before his hands push the cups of her bra up and out of the way–a hallelujah choir of 'finallyyy's sings out in her head– then Mabel is blissfully floating on a high all over again as Dipper touches her all over, thoroughly reacquainting himself with every inch of her skin. His hands are gentle and careful as usual, but a jittery sort of careful that gives away how excited he is. It's obvious in the way their kiss grows more passionate, too. A gasp gets roused out of her when he rolls her nipples around under his thumbs, pinches them gently, lets them catch between each of his fingers as he glides his hands back and forth.

"Dip," is all she can manage. Dipper responds to the tiny whimper by fully cupping her breasts in his slightly-damp palms, squeezing as hard as he dares (which turns out is still pretty dern softly). She moans into his mouth 'cause that feels way too good, crazy good, god, she missed his hands.

Filled with confidence by the hushed, yearning sounds her brother keeps making in his throat, Mabel breaks their kiss to do the best improvised bend-and-snap she can do from this position, her head flinging back with the sexiest whimper she has to offer, some of her long brown curls sort of clocking him in the face on the upswing. Whoopsie. Her flair might've been a tad overdone there, but whatevs, Dipper eats it up like cake anyway, kneading her breasts and breathing out a low, whispery "yeah" that she'll probably poke fun at him for later, but right now, hellzyea, she's into the Dip-talk. Feeling an overwhelming need to have his mouth on her neck, she quickly lets her head fall to one side with a small whine, hoping he'll take the bait. And bless that predictable boy, he does, like so fast it's kinda hilarious actually, drawn to it like a magnet, lavishing her skin with his lips and tongue and teeth and inciting the vague thought that she'll prooobably have to slather on the coverup tomorrow before school, but who the frig cares, she's kiiinda in heaven at the moment.

They pick up the pace, returning to their roots and grinding against each other with that distinct air of two dorks who are pent-up as heck. Dipper's hands switched gears and found their way down to her butt about half a minute ago, and they still have yet to let go, clutching her as far onto his lap as physically possible as he thrusts his hips and breathes hard into her neck. Meanwhile Mabel's face is all kinds of red and she is all kinds of hot-n-bothered, because The Bootie Touching ™ is starting to feel a little hotter and more assertive than anything she's felt from Mr. Gentle-McCarefulhands over there before– oh-ho, a tad possessive too—apparently she is into that, because here come the words, uh oh, hot-n-bothered word-type-things are bubbling up can't stop 'em, oh jeez please at least be sexy words—

"Ahhhfffuudge, ohh, mm, Dipdon'tstop—"

Ah, phew. Words-type-things sufficiently sexy. Dipper groans a curse under his breath at the sound of her fast-talking, then sighs out her name in this super needy-sounding way right before he lifts his hands off her butt only to bring them swiftly back down again and grab on tight. The faint slapping sound that results is immediately followed by Mabel's eyes popping open, a breathless squeak flying out of her mouth— ohmygoddidhejust — mmhm yesthatboydid—

Her eyes squeeze closed again and she holds him tighter, the shirt fabric on the backs of his shoulders clutched hard in her fists. She buries her face in his neck, too, where she makes sure to give him kisses whenever she's not busy shuddering or whimpering or just trying to focus on hanging on for the ride, 'cause the Dips here has kinda taken charge and he's the one doing most of the dirty work, now. Ohh wowie– like he has found his rub-a-dub-rhythm and he is truckin', man– oh wowwowwow she could get used to this.

"Fuck, Mabel, I-I'm close," he gasps.

The sound of her whispered name on his lips is heavenly. So's that desperate tremble in his voice. Mabel's knees start to dig into the seat belt buckles on either side of Dipper's fast-moving hips, but the dull pain barely registers. Her cloudy brain also fails to register the orgasm-ahoy warning, too caught up in the idea of recreating a scene from one of her favorite romance movies, wherein she just rips his shirt open so that buttons fly everywhere, because man she's always wanted to try that, and also his dorky underwear, it really need to go, like now, hers too for that matter (not dorky but still needs to be gone)— hey so can our second time be in the backseat of a van please oh please let their second time be in the backseat of a van—

"Wait, w-wait–" Just as Mabel moves her jittery hands forward to follow through with the shirt-ripping plan Dipper comes to a screeching halt with the unbridled dry humping, his body freezing up beneath her, his hands swiftly moving to her shoulders to push her away and hold her at arm's length.

"Wh—" Her surprised (and maybe a little hurt) voice comes out as this breathless croak thing at first, and Mabel swallows and licks her lips, trying again. "What the heck, Dip?"

All she hears is their labored panting and the rain as Dipper nervously shifts his eyes right and left before answering. "Sorry… s-sorry I just… I thought I heard a car pull up," he says finally, face burning red as he tries to catch his breath. Suddenly the idea she had ten seconds ago—the one where she was gonna rip the rest of her super-secret boyfriend's clothes off and ride him 'til kingdom come out in the open of a public parking lot (in a van that doesn't even have tinted windows)— seems kinda stupid.

Which is frustrating. 'Cause realizing how risky her plan was doesn't change the fact that she's still aching to jump those nerd bones of his. Curses.

She gnaws on her bottom lip, following Dipper's gaze towards the window on her left, but all there is to see is a few raindrops cutting paths down a solid layer of mist on the glass. "I don't see anyone…"

"Oh shit," Dipper laughs, "we fogged up the friggin' windows."

"Hmm, are we being obvious? Is it obvious there are two rrrandy teens in the back of this van?" Mabel cups her hands around her mouth and calls out to no one, "Will somebody open a window please!"

"Mabel! Shh!" Dipper orders through stifled laughter, twisting his neck this way and that. "Man, if there is someone out there, we wouldn't even be able to see them until they were right on us." She catches his eye the next time he turns his head, and he stills, looking sheepish. "Sorry, I know, I'm paranoid…"

"Maaaybe we should temporarily put a lid on this fire. Pick it back up somewhere else. At a later time."

"Y-yeah… yeah, you're probably right. Ah, man," Dipper frowns and closes his eyes, breathing out heavily as if it truly pained him to have to say that. Mabel gets a heck of a kick out of how disappointed he looks and can't help but tease him.

"Uh-uh, no frowns now, only smiles! Boooop," the tips of her index fingers stretch the corners of his mouth into an unwilling non-smile on his deadpan face. She tut-tuts at him. "I rate this smile a one-point-three out of ten. Abysmal. As a smile enthusiast I'm unimpressed, but as your sister I am scandalized. Surely you can't be so indecently affected by widdle ol' me?" She puts a finger to her chin and innocently bats her eyelashes. He waves her off, grinning and rolling his eyes.

"Noooo, not at all. And I definitely didn't just almost lose it in my pants, either."

Mabel blushes and barks out a laugh, still not used to hearing Dipper say stuff like that to her so casually– not that she's not totally cool with it, or anything. "Huh. Well maybe it's a good thing we stopped when we did, then."

As she snorts out giggles at Dipper's embarrassed half-glare she can't help but slither her hand down to stroke her nails over the still-prominent bulge in his underwear (Dipper sharply sucks in air through his teeth) before giving it light, friendly pats, as if she's petting a puppy's head. "There there, my eager lil' friendo. Weeee'll meet again, don't know where, don't know whennn—"

Dipper cuts off her mini-serenade by gently grabbing her wrist, his eyes scrunched closed, his voice pinched and just a tad high pitched, "haha, thaat's enough of that now, Mabes. Torturing me is really not necessary. And you know what, I'm gonna go ahead and veto the name 'lil' friendo' right now."

"Pshh. As if you have the power to veto weiner nicknames. Keep dreamin', bro."

She shakes with silent laughter, mercifully taking her hand off him to pap his cheeks and kiss the tip of his nose with a 'muah.' Dipper gives her what she takes as an I'm-vaguely-annoyed-at-you-but-damn-you're-cute look before he hunches forward to rest his forehead on her shoulder. A melodramatic sigh gusts out of him, tickling the skin on her clavicle. "Dammit. We need to find some more stable make out spots. This is kinda painful." He proceeds to mumble "Jeff the gnome in a squirrel bath" over and over to himself, making Mabel laugh out loud and flick his burning ear.

"Aw, don't you worry your giant head about it, brother," she speaks over his cool down mantra, "I'm sure we will. And hey, we'll always have our good ol' bedrooms to fall back on. Well. At least when no one's home. Or awake."

Dipper nods, but still looks so hilariously disappointed. She stretches her arm towards a window, determined to cheer him up.

"Yo bro-bro. Check it." Mabel proceeds to drag her hand down the glass, leaving a long, clear trail behind it. At the bottom near the classically provocative handprint she can't help but add a smiley face with bug-eyes and a suggestive tongue.

"Was that supposed to be a Titanic reference? The weird smiley face is throwing me off."

Lowering her eyelids, she tickles her fingers up the sides of his face, then waving her hands suggestively along her curves, lowering her voice to an overly-husky octave. "Don't fret, Jack. You can 'take me to the stars' later. Wink-wonkkk." After some furious wink action Mabel taps her chin in thought. "And hey, maybe after we get back from the stars we can watch some Hank's Hotdogs or a movie or something? I don't know, light-speed travel will really take it out of ya, we'll have to play it by ear."

Dipper, who'd been nodding along oh-so seriously while trying (and mostly failing) to smother his grin, finally snorts. "You're a dork," he says. She scoffs and blows a raspberry, and he just giggles some more. The sound tingles through Mabel's eardrums, making her feel even more ridiculously happy than she already is.

Riding freely on that joyful high, she leans in close, gently brushing aside the messy brown curls hanging over his ear, her other hand stroking the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. "Hi. Hey. You with the Dipper-face. I love you," she murmurs, pressing her lips right to his ear, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I love you a whole hecka lot, Dip." And unlike the last time they were in this position, when the room was dark and her heart was so unsure, Mabel says it like she means it, no chance for a misunderstanding of exactly what kind of love she's talking about. It's the whole package, man. All the kinds. She knows that for sure now.

It's the first time she's said it since prom night confession time, and Mabel can hear Dipper's breath hitch. She pulls back to find him beaming at her. It's contagious.

"Annnd you love me too," she hedges with a giggle, poking him repeatedly in the chest.

He raises an eyebrow, his lips pursing in mock skepticism. "Uhh, I don't know if I'm totally sure how I feel right now? I might need to get back to you on that one…"

Her jaw drops, and she sways back in his lap, guffawing. "Woah! Wow, tasteless joke alert!" Dipper starts to laugh as she twists and turns to address the other empty seats in their old van while pointing at his head. "Attention all van patrons, we got a tasteless joker here! I repeat, a tasteless joker! Booooo!" He lightly slaps away the finger in his face and sticks out his tongue. Mabel finally stops wiggling, sending a wry smile his way. "Yeah too soon man. Too soon."

He smirks back at her, teeth and all. Then his arms encircle her back, reeling her in until there's a pair of fervent lips fitted to hers. Mabel's eyes flutter closed and her brain floats away as her new secret boyfriend proceeds to kiss her so mercilessly that her toes have curled inside her sparkly purple shoes by the time it's over. She's actually lightheaded when Dipper pulls back a few centimeters, just far enough for him to speak. Well so much for cooling down…

"Annnd I love you too." He says quietly, their lips grazing together at each word.

Her heartbeat is through the friggin' roof. All Mabel can do is giggle stupidly, cheeks ridiculously flushed, fingers dancing in his shaggy hair. Wuh-wuh-wowzers. Who knew this kid could be so romantic? Well technically, she did, because there have consistently been moments like these—the ones that make her melt into ooey-gooey puddle of goop—with every more-than-just-sibs encounter they've had so far.

But it still kind of surprises her every time, in a good way. Like, this is the same guy who used to cry whenever she accidentally went a little too hard with wedgie-giving during the impromptu twin-wrestling matches.

"What the heckers, Dip," Mabel laughs breathlessly, "How did you get to be such a good kisser? It's ridonkulous."

He grins ear to ear like a kid, sitting up a little straighter and prouder in his seat. "You think I'm a good kisser?"

"…Maybe," Mabel waves her hand flippantly, "I dunno. Eh."

"Nope, too late, already said it," Dipper wraps his arms around her in a playful bear hug and brings their faces close together as Mabel squirms and giggles, puckering his lips to give her light pecks in between "No," "take," and "backs."

Movement enters her peripherals and they both turn to see two cars parking just a couple of spots down from them. Mabel sighs, adjusting her bra back into place, beginning her descent from her throne on Dipper's lap; might as well do it now before Captain Paranoia over there inevitably suggests it anyway. No big deal though, she gets it. Too many people know them in this town.

Mabel climbs back into the front seat, propping her feet up on the dashboard as Dipper finishes zipping up his shorts and scrambles back over the center console after her. Swiveling her head around to gaze out of her now only slightly foggy window, she watches a group of people she's pretty sure are seniors from their high school exit their vehicles and saunter over to one of the nearby picnic pavilions.

"Hey, you still wanna go for a walk?" Dipper asks once he gets situated, hooking his hat back on his head. She twists to look dubiously at him over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised.

"Whatever happened to, 'nyehh, we don't have an umbrella Mabellll, we'll catch pneumonia and die Mabellll, Mom and Dad'll have to pay for a double funeral and that's just too expensive Mabellll—'"

"—You're putting words in my mouth, as usual."

She snorts, flashing a mouthful of straight, pearly white teeth, wriggling her feet back into her shoes. "Yeah, barely!"

He gives her shoulder a light shove by force of habit, then takes her hand in his slightly sweaty one, weaving their fingers together. "Well the rain's kinda died down a bit. And what the hell, I'm feeling daring today."

"Says the guy who once jumped off a cliff for me about walking in the rain."

"Yyyup."

"The Dips has spokennn! Rainy afternoon park walk it is, then." She squeezes their hands before they break their hold on one another, pushing out of their respective doors. Tiny droplets mist down on the twins as they randomly choose one of the park's many hiking paths and start walking.

As soon as they're out of sight of the picnic benches where those seniors have settled into talking and smoking, Dipper is reaching for her hand again. She playfully bumps her hip against his, he scoffs and bumps hers back, and soon they're bantering and laughing about nothing in particular. The drizzle eventually mats their hair to their foreheads and weighs down their clothes, but Mabel's heart feels lighter than air.


	6. Period Piece (4th in DB AU)

alt title– black & white period piece old lady boring incest channel presents: love on day two

[i stuck this story in the dream boy timeline because i could and also it's fun to build on one universe, shhh just let me have this… probs takes place a couple weeks or so before the events of insecurities

not really that NSFW but suggestive as fuh so still labeling this mess of incesty words **NSFW** ]

Mabel Pines could never stand the nickname 'Aunt Flow' for periods. Hearing it made her straight up cringe. Like, if her period _has_ to be described as some metaphorical 'Auntie' figure – and really, she'd rather it not be – then it sure ain't no aunt of hers. If it is she'd be a super estranged aunt. The kind of aunt who's annoying and unnecessary and who you'd _really_ rather not invite to the family reunions, uh uh, no ma'am.

Her period started yesterday afternoon, and the first few days always leave Mabel feeling extra greasy and icky. So consequently, bloated, crappy, tired, and gross-feeling are the words she would choose to describe the overall mood of this less-than-amazing Thursday. This morning she woke up with a pimple on her cheek mercilessly on its way to Mt. Vesuvius status. Coupled up with that were cramps out the wazoo, like a herd of tiny bite-sized goats repeatedly head-butting her insides. What's worse is she slept through her alarm, and therefore didn't have enough time to shower before school, which only magnified the gross feeling twelveteen-fold.

Ugh. Curse you day two. Curse you!

Although, she can't say The Thursday Of Ickiness has been _all_ bad. There've been a few high points. Most of them thanks to her main saving grace today, aka her brother… well him, and also getting lots of ego-boosting comments on her Elizabethan cat sculpture during group critique in art class, that was pretty awesome.

Okay, but the bro-bro, though. First, he did her a solid and packed her lunch for her that morning while her discombobulated, goat-cramp-assualted self was hobble-rushing around upstairs getting ready. She didn't ask him to, he just did it, and Dipper barely remembers to pack his own lunch most of the time, so it was a kindhearted gesture by itself, for reals.

But when Mabel broke out her pig-shaped lunchbox in the cafeteria later that day, inside she discovered that the considerate-sib-gesture came with bonuses: an extra pack of Tigerfist fruit snacks _and_ a scribbly note thing written in code, which he'd folded at _least_ ten times. Her heart quickly made a mad dash to melty-town, and she'd had to fib to her friends about why she was suddenly smiling so hard.

She spent half of 5th period Spanish with her tongue poked out in concentration (it was a pretty short note but she's slow at this stuff) using the hastily scrawled out cipher he included to decode the sweet little message. So friggin sweet that she got called out by Ms. Melendez in front of the whole class for making high-pitched squeaky sounds in her throat without realizing it. Oops. Worth it, though. Dipper doesn't do the love note thing often, only once before, but when he does the notes he writes to her are so awkwardly heartfelt and cute, with lots of scratched out bits and eraser marks in between blurbs of his messy handwriting. Like he was really struggling to get the words _just_ right before he scrambled them up into secret not-actually-nonsense. Gah, she can't even with him. It actually made her forget about the groggy grossness for awhile.

On top of the lunch-packing and cute-note-giving, when they got home from school that day, instead of holing himself in his room and hittin' the books– after some _artful_ pestering– Dipper agreed to be her model for a giant figure drawing assignment of hers (due tomorrow, assigned last week, Procrastinabel-Mabel strikes again). Which is a pretty big deal for him, considering how much he's been freaking out lately about all the AP exams happening next week. That adorable psycho took _four_ AP classes this year, and therefore has been diving headlong into study mode as soon he gets home from school for many moons,now. _Man_ she can't wait 'til those dumb exams are over. Study mode has seriously been cutting into mackin' time.

But still, freak-out-mode _'ahhhh I have to know every single detail about everything or obviously I will fail and then also die'_ Dipper doesn't put his textbooks and pages and pages of color-coded-via-highlighter notes aside for just anything, or anybody. Being prioritized over homework will sure make an icky-feeling gal feel special (ooh that sounds a little sad when she thinks it aloud. Whatever, she stands by the sentiment!).

And that figure drawing sesh ended up being like, the most fun she'd had all day so far. With the dumb jokes flowing and flirty banter that was more life-giving than anything that had come from hanging out with her friends at school. She'd arrange his limbs into poses that Dipper would never do in real life; Adonis-esque poses or Coyote Ugly poses or butt-accentuating poses that he actually went along with, all pretend-serious, until they were both broken down into giggle-messes and she had to re-pose him into something a little less hilarious and a little more stable. She kept sabotaging herself by making him laugh when she needed him to sit or stand very very still. But in the end her drawings came out pretty good anyway, and Dipper's face got all smiley and cute when she showed them to him.

He wasn't willing to risk giving her a _proper_ thank-you kiss since Dad had just gotten home from work, although he might've snuck a quick one in there while Dad was in the bathroom, turning her face into a goopy smiley number that rivaled his. Once again, her significant brother had made her temporarily forget all about her Aunt Doom woes. Such a magical being, he is.

Most recently, when Mabel dragged her feet into Dipper's room at the tail end of The Thursday Of Ickiness, flopping down face-first into his bed, whining dramatically that her stomach hurt and she couldn't sleep and desperately needed to play some cheer-up videogames, he graciously closed the AP Bio textbook he'd just had his nose buried in. Pulled himself away from his desk with an "I call Player One," walked over to dig around in a jumbled milk crate full of old electronics, cords and controllers, successfully unearthing his dusty Gamecube.

Hot diggity dog, the Dips is a keeper, a dang keeper. As a broseph and as a bee-eff (well obviously, duh).

And um… she really did come in his room just wanting to play old Nintendo games, she swears. It _did_ start out that way, with them crammed next to each other against a pillow-pile on Dipper's bed, giggling and smack-talking in low voices as they duked it out over some Smash Bros on the boxy, old-as-heck TV that's been in Dip's room since the dawn of time. Buuuut, like many of the one-on-one-hang-out activities she does with the broski these days, at some point old videogame playing mysteriously turned into making out. How did this happen? Truly, it's a mystery. So _mysterioussss_.

Pff, what can she say, it's unanimously their fave one-on-one activity. The whole twin-on-twin-dating phenomenon is still pretty newish, and the novelty of being able to kiss him whenever she wants has yet to wear off. Well, 'whenever she wants' as in when they're completely alone and the door is locked and every box on Dipper's irritating clear-for-lip-landing mental checklist has been ticked off… admittedly there's some fine print, there. But still. It sure as heck hasn't worn off for her brother, either. The mutual rush they get from _together_ -togetherness doesn't feel like something that can ever 'wear off,' to be honest.

Sooo uh, yup, that's where she's at right now. Deep in major mack mode. Score one for icky Mabel.

Sometimes making out with Dipper is something soft and sweet, more about chillin' out and simply enjoying being close to one another. Lips-on-lips close. Where they're not in any hurry, and they can just spend hours snuggling and hand-holding and kissin' up each other's faces in a warm, comforting embrace. Maybe it'll get a _little_ heated here and there, but it doesn't lead up to anything besides a buttload of warm fuzzy feelings in her chest.

Other times, though, the kissing is much less patient, and isn't what Mabel would call soft _,_ exactly– more like swelteringly hot, full-body-buzz inducing, ravenous liplocks where she feels like she could devour him whole if she's not careful, like _umph_ _step aside Mom's meatloaf this gal's havin' Dips for dinner_ kisses. Faster paced, if-I-don't-keep-kissing-you-i'll- _die,_ hands all over the place shenanigans that make her heart race way too fast to be healthy. Thatkind of making out, if the timing is right, often leads to either some or all of their clothes sprawled on the floor, and damp sheets. Uh, from sweat. Mostly from sweat.

Mabel can safely say that she likes both kinds of Dipper-make-out styles equally. She likes that they're capable of both, she likes that she gets to wake up in the mornings never really knowing if it's gonna end up being one or the other, should make outs happen that day.

She especially loves that there's never, ever any pressure to do anything except what feels right in the moment. Being with Dip is just like that, she's joyfully come to discover. It comes so naturally, so blissfully easy to her. Before him, she didn't think being _this_ comfortable gettin' all physical-like with a guy was even possible… though she can still sense that Dipper might not be as one-hundred-percent comfy sometimes, when it comes to rated-M-for-mature make outs with her. Not because he doesn't want to or anything, he's certainly the same eager beaver that he's been since the beginning of this luuuhve saga. It's more along the lines of him being overly careful with her, visibly overthinking his touches and moves, seeking out her permission so often that it's a little annoying, that sort of thing.

But she'd never tell Dipper she thinks it's annoying. His heart's in the right place, and she long ago gathered where all the cautiousness stems from. All those weeks of thinking monstrously icky thoughts in that overthinky icky-thought-prone brain of his, thoughts that involved him convincing himself he'd done Unforgivable Things back when they were in awkward post-first-hookup relationship limbo, sure messed her bro up good. Whiiich is something she still can't help but assume full responsibility for, since she failed to nip those evil-alien thoughts of his in their evil-alien-egg buds via flamethrower, Sigourney Weaver style, from the very beginning… even if she wasn't really aware of the full extent of them, even if he's assured her multiple times that _'none of that stuff's on you, Mabes,'_ (they've had a handful of cuddly late night heart-to-hearts since they started the boyfriend-girlfriend thing).

Blah, but she can't change lame past-Mabel decisions, or let herself get swallowed up by the guilt monster. All she can do is continue to coax him in the right direction, keep building up his confidence and letting him know it's all good.

And it is all good. He's come a long way confidence-wise already. Even if that wasn't the case, she loves the stuffing out of this kid, she doesn't mind the extra emotional hand-holding. Plus, in the end she gets to make out with him either way, so, yayy for Mabel!

A Gamecube controller gets kicked off the end of the bed as Mabel squirms and squeaks out a breathy moan, raking her fingers through Dipper's hair while he fervently sucks at her pulse, halfway on top of her. She moves a hand down to teasingly drag her nails up the inside of his thigh, causing his boxers to ride up. He chokes in a ragged breath, whispering her nickname heavily against her neck before firmly reattaching his mouth to hers.

Ayup. Tonight feels like it's leading down the path of Dip-make-out style numero dos. The hot to trot kind. And even as Mabel tugs him closer, sighs sensually into his mouth, nips his bottom lip with conviction, a tiny littleminuscule piece of her brain is _just_ outside of being completely in the moment.

On any other day this level of friskiness would be fine, more than fine, and it's still mostly fine but… argh, today is day _two_ , and hot-to-trot make outs with Dipper have never happened on day two before, or on any other heavy Aunt Doom day. It just… it throws the teensiest of wrenches into the mix. While she is all _about_ Dip's fancy tongue work and tushie squeezes, she absolutely does _not_ want him discovering the war-torn granny panties and maxi pad she's currently rockin' (why did she not at least think to put on cuter underwear before she came in here, why universe, why?!).

So she's gotta play it cool, keep the focus on him. Which might be easier said than done, because Dipper, bless his heart, is definitely, erm, what one might call a giver when it comes to him and her and doing stuff. Ohh boy… no no, she's got this, she's got this. It'll be fine.

Soon she's got him out of his shirt, and they're wrapped up in each other's arms good 'n tight enough that she can feel how happy to be here his body is. So goshdern happy that it wants to spread the joy via leg-poking. Heat surges through her at the feel of him, her stomach diving into a somersault, her back bowing into an instinctive arch.

Dipper hisses out his first breathless curse of the night and arches his back, too. He drops any notion of being subtle about where his head is at, deliberately pressing himself into her thigh until she can feel so much of him that her head goes for a floaty little swim. Her flushed skin rapidly becomes blazing hot, the between-the-leg tingles escalating into warm, pleasurable throbs.

He starts to grind against her leg, his hips rolling just barely. Just barely is enough to make her let out a soft, high pitched sound, her nails scraping down the length of his back. The vibe quickly gets more desperate, sharp breaths escaping through the split-second gaps between their mouths as they frantically tilt their heads in search of angles that allow them better access. The music from the choose-your-character screen still displayed on the crappy off-color TV serves as their official eat-face soundtrack, the upbeat intensity of it _really_ working for them somehow (poor Kirby and Fox, long ago selected but never to see battle. At least, not tonight).

Unfortunately, at some point Mabel kind of forgets about Operation Keep-Things-Focused-On-Not-Her. Which isn't her fault! Make-out style number two makes her brain turn to static. Also it's hard to discourage or redirect anything he's doing when she's umm, enjoying it so much. Like, a loooot. A lot a lot. She didn't actually realize it until he started getting handsy with her junk-in-the-trunk, but no thanks to stupid ol' AP exam prep eating away most of Dipper's time and brainpower, it seems she's become a _tiny_ bit pent up as of late. And he's so hard and _warrrrrrm_ , sweet Sally he's practically searing her leg through his boxers as he moves against her and wait, whaat are thoughts again? Does she _really_ need any of those right now? Nahh, right?

She feels Dipper lifting the hem of her own brightly colored sleep shirt (her old Boyz 4 Now concert tee, their last tour before they broke up, r.i.p.), and he gets it halfway up her torso before meeting her eyes and breaking out that classic doe-eyed, ' _can I…?'_ face. Mabel just sits up and lifts her arms in response, and he wordlessly finishes pulling it off of her.

Dipper's hand starts to trace the undersides of her breasts, his lips still busy workin' their magic on hers, which is, hngg, great, and then he gently squeezes her over her purple sports bra which is even _more_ great. But eventually his fingers trickle away from her bra in a southwards direction, and Mabel's eyes fly open, her face jumping from kiss-dazed to mildly anxious.

Oh, poopnuggets, fingers have definitely started to move down her belly, mm-hm, downwards movement confirmed – uh oh. Is he going for what she thinks he's going for and what based on previous experience he's more than likely indeed going for?

His caressing hand finishes its meandering trail down her stomach, easily slipping past the waistband of her loose-fitting, hamburger-and-fries-themed PJ shorts to reach the elastic of her ramshackle for-period-week-only panties, and Dipper breathes out a soft groan against her lips as he starts to wriggle his fingertips underneath it–

– _Yup he's def going for it aw dang it._

"Hmmmmaybe not tonight actually," Mabel blurts, hurriedly grabbing his wrist before he can dip his hand inside. Dipper's whole arm goes rigid at the contact and his hand instantly jerks away.

"Ah, s-sorry–" his head rears back to look at her with a (sadly familiar) mortified, skittish look that makes her heart sink like a rock, his whole body gearing up to shoot away from her, "crap, I'm really sorry, I should've asked–"

Aw, flapjacks.

"Noooo it's not– _nnnn_ oh my god stop retreating you doof," Mabel grabs onto his shoulder and scooches closer, not letting him get away any further on the bed, then cups his jaw so he's forced to look directly at her with that endearing, panicking doof face of his. " _Hey_ , it's alright. Deep breaths, Dippinsauce. You didn't do anything wrong, I'm just– I'm on my period."

She follows up with a resigned, _yea-it's-lame-what-are-ya-gonna-do_ expression and shrug combo. Dipper blinks a few times in a row, his eyebrows un-furrowing as this new information sinks in, his mouth opening and his expression changing hilariously fast.

"…Oh."

"Yeahh… probably should've mentioned that before stuff got all hot-n-heavayyy, I guess _._ Buuut yeah. It's day two and day two is tampon-plus-a-pad day if ya know what I'm sayin. S'not pretty, uh-uhh, no it is not."

"Oh," Dipper says again, breathing out the word in a sort of dazed sigh of relief.

"Like you were headed straight for the danger zone, buddy. It's a bloodbath down there."

"Ah. Gotcha." He bobs his head slowly.

"I'm talkin' total warzone. So many fallen tampax soldiers, like you wouldn't _believe_."

"I think I got it, Mabel," Dipper breathes out a few chuckles, his coffee-colored eyes shifting down and back up to hers.

"Okay just wanted to be clear. I can't have you thinking I'm not into fun times with the Dip fangers or anything. Gotta nip those evil thoughts right in the bud." She gives him a solemn, wide eyed look that finally cracks him, silent giggles beginning to shake his shoulders. " _Rrrright_ in the bud," she repeats with one of her infinite number of silly accents, her fingers darting out to attack the ticklish spot on Dipper's belly. He jerks, folding forward and letting out a loud guffaw, immediately clapping a hand to his mouth afterwards.

"Oh my god Mabel don't tickle me, we're supposed to be being quiet, here," Dipper hisses as he reflexively looks towards the bedroom door to reaffirm its locked status, but she can still hear remnants of laughter in his voice even though he's trying to be all serious.

"Whoopsie, my bad, my bad."

Dipper straightens back up so they're face to face, a small all-is-forgiven grin on his lips. For a few moments they listen for any signs of wakefulness from their snoozing parental units down the hall, but there's not a rustle to be heard, and paranoid-Dipper thankfully retreats back into his paranoia cave.

Mabel takes the opportunity to nuzzle her nose against her brother's for a languid eskimo kiss. "So anyways, back on topic," she kisses him, light and teasing, "I'm off the table for _stuuhrff_ , but that doesn't mean we can't still get you all good 'n taken care of…" She waggles her eyebrows, rubbing her hand along his thigh so that her fingers disappear just inside the shorts of his boxers every time she moves it up.

But Dipper doesn't react at all the way she was expecting to her offer to do _stuuhrff_ to him, definitely not the way he usually does. All of a sudden he's having a hard time meeting her eyes, his brow looking the slightest bit frowny and uncertain. What the heck, does he not _want_ an H-jay or possibly maybe a bee-jay or some other kind of jay? Uhm, that sure doesn't sound like the Dip she's come to know over the last few weeks… the half-tent he's pitchin' in his undies says otherwise, too.

"Oh-kay Dipper, time to spill, what's wrong," Mabel asks, her tone mostly jokingly exasperated but also a hint of worried, which gets him to look at her for real again. "Are you not in the mood? That's fine, too…"

"No, no," he says a little too fast to be considered cool, "it's– really, definitely not that. I'm just…" He cocks his head at her and nibbles on his bottom lip a tiny bit, still glancing at her all weird and unsure-like.

"Mmm, whuzzup with that face, I don't like that faceee," she sing-songs, frowning.

"I was just– gonna ask… uh, aree you? Totally off the table for stuff? Because if you're not comfortable that's totally fine but like, if you didn't want me touching you for, you know, my sake, I mean… I wouldn't actually uh, mind um…" Mabel's eyebrows shoot up, sky-high, like, _all_ the way up. Dipper shrugs, the last remnants of his confidence breaking down to shyness at the surprised, entirely skeptical look she's fixing on him. "I-I'm just saying, I, I'd be okay with… stuff. Even though it's day two." He gives her an awkward smile.

Mabel's face turns cherry red. She shakes her head at him, wincing and squinting dubiously. "Uhhhhm, I really don't think you know what you're signing up for there, Dip."

"I mean…seems pretty self explanatory…" he scratches the peach fuzz on his chin, blurting out the rest of his sentence quickly, "but like I said if you're not comfortable with it then the point is moot ya know? It's fine." Another shrug.

Mabel gives him a long look, narrowing her eyes at him, her eyebrows still raised.

"…What?" Dipper says when he can't take her staring anymore, his cheeks completely flushed.

"I'm thinking."

"Okay…" His eyes shift around the room restlessly as he lays there on his side and waits for her to say something more. When she doesn't for a while he speaks up again, "…any chance of youu maybe sharing? What you're thinking?"

She heaves a dramatic sigh at the ceiling, flopping an arm over her face. "Ughh I'm trying to figure out which Mabel is gonna win this one."

"Uhh, not sure I follow…"

"As in there are two Mabels. Two rough-and-tumblin' Mabels. In muh brain. And they're in the midst of this cage match, right," she mimes a few boxing movements with her fists, "and _one_ of them is the Mabel who is super in the mood to get her rocks off right now, we'll call her for lack of a better, less icky word," she throws up some gratuitous air quotes, " 'Horny Mabel,' and she's facing off with the Mabel who is mortified at the thought of you having gross period hands because of me, and her pro-wrestling name can be… uhmmm how bout 'No Freakin Way Mabel.' Er no. 'The NoFreakinWayinator.' "

"…Oh," Dipper clears his throat awkwardly. "… So, uh, who's winning?"

"Don't know. Pretty evenly matched, those two. They're still going at it."

He goes quiet for a while, looking so annoyingly (beautifully) sympathetic, clearly fumbling for what to say to her. "…I don't think you're gross," is what he ends up going with.

Ah, Dipper. Sweet, naive babymanchild.

"Aw, I know, bro. I'm not saying I think _I'm_ gross it's just that… bluhhh, periods are pretty gross man. And this whole offer-deal is coming from someone who has, and I'm just assuming here, never experienced gross bloody period hands firsthand."

"Er, ahm– Iguessthat, you, well. Hm." Uh oh, looks like she broke him. She's whined about her periods many-a-time to Dipper before but she supposes she's never gotten this gory about it. Haha, oh, teenaged boys and their weak constitutions…

He finally gets his mouth to form organized(ish) words again, "It's not like I'd be– like I wouldn't actually be doing the full, er– I mean I could just stick to–" he lifts up his hand and moves his index and middle fingers around in tiny circles, grinning innocently.

Mabel snorts and makes an anguished face, her tongue sticking out as she smacks his hand out of the air. "Oh my gosh, stoppit stoppit right now I will punch you."

Dipper laughs, raising his hands in surrender. "What? That's what it is!"

" _Yes_ Dip, I am aware. Now please, no more fingering the invisible wizard."

His lips purse hard, clearly struggling to hold back a giant laugh although some of it still escapes through his nose. "I thought the invisible wizard was a dude."

"Uh uh, he's nonbinary. Also he can spontaneously change sexes, depending on the needs of the wizard population. Like West African frogs."

Dipper rolls his eyes good naturedly, brushing a curl out of her face and twirling it around his finger. "Okay Dr. Grant. Now I'm thinking you're just trying to change the subject."

Mabel drags her hands down her cheeks, pulling down her lower eyelids to make a scary monster face at him, "Bgghhffffuhhh. Whyyyy are you being so insistent about this you weirdo."

There he goes again with that dumb, annoying, entirely sweet and gentle smile. Errgh. "Because I don't think it's weird," he chuckles softly, "and since we've been talking about it this long I'm pretty sure you actually want me to do it, and I want to do it, and, yeah."

She whines, rolling her face into her pillow with a torn, muffled, "I don't knowwwww. You might not feel weird about it but I kinda feel weird about it."

Dipper purses his lips to one side, his eyes gazing down towards the pillow under his shaggy head of hair (he's gonna have to get his butt to a Great Clips soon). "Well… if you feel that weird about it, then we don't have to. That's fine, too."

Mabel just whines again through her pillow barrier, in an obvious _that's-not-the-answer-I'm-looking-for_ way.

Dipper swallows, gearing up to propose an alternative strategy, "Or- I could just…" he tentatively moves his hand to trace the pads of his fingers up the side of her thigh, "you know, rub you, like. Over the underwear? Would that work?"

She peeks at him, back to looking skeptical. "…You'd actually wanna do that?"

"Yeah, of course," Dipper says, sounding a little confused, like his answer ought to be completely obvious.

"…Even though I'm wearin a granny pad? With _wings?"_

The pitiful look on her face and slightly-dejected note in her voice spurs Dipper to reach up and tenderly touch her cheek, leaning in a little closer to kiss the tip of her nose before he spouts off in a super-soothing voice, "especially 'cos you're wearin a granny pad." Mabel makes a weirded-out face and he instantly winces with embarrassment, shaking his head, "ack, I know, yeah, that came out wrong. That's not what I– ugh, okay, really failing at the trying-to-be-comforting thing, here…" he clenches his eyes shut for a second and takes a breath, trying again. "I just meant that I don't care about the pad. Or that you're on your period. Still wanna touch you."

Dipper shoots her a crooked, genuine smile, and Mabel feels herself turning red again, still halfway buried in the pillow and peeking out at him.

"Ghhhh… blahhhh…" she lets her tongue loll out of her mouth, caught up in the last of the Mabel-v-Mabel brain battle. Then she sighs, finally rolling out of her hiding place to skitter over and snuggle up to her brother, burrowing her head under his chin. He wraps his arms around her, and it's quiet for a little bit.

"Mm, hey. Bro." Mabel breaks the silence, using her index finger to draw swirly, invisible pictures on Dipper's bare chest. "You're really not failing as badly as you think you are at being comforting. Just to let you know. Also you're cute and I heart your schmoopy butt."

"Ah, well that's a relief," he chuckles, gently scratching his nails up and down her back. "Although schmoopy, is that, a _good_ thing? A positive butt quality? Cause it sounds… hm."

"In this context, oh yes, it's a very good thing."

"Alright. Guess I gotta take your word for it."

Dipper kisses the top of her head. Mabel smoothes her fingers back and forth over the small amount of hair on his chest before moving up to lay her head on the pillow right next to his, and the twins regard each other warmly for a few comfortable (but sort of giddy) seconds. Dipper starts to lean in, but Mabel moves faster and beats him to it, closing the majority of the gap, cradling his face and kissing him soundly. The kiss makes the switch from sweet to heavy pretty fast, the sounds of wet smacks and a soft moan or two once again joining the quiet (but _epic_ ) Melee menu music.

Eventually they break apart, both gasping for breath and a lot redder in the face. Dipper opens his eyes slowly, his lips pink and swollen and parted, gazing at her with a half-lidded, heated look that makes her heart beat double time.

"Hey. Love you," he decides to whisper, his hand stroking the mussed up tresses on the side of her head, as if her whole body didn't already feel melty enough.

Hng. Ah. Hm. Ghhh… oh, all right. What the hey. He said he wanted to do it like a bunch of times, and he was right on the money about her, she _definitely_ wants him to touch her right now. She can't witness the look that's currently on his face and _not_ want it. That dork. The NoFreakinWayinator humbly accepts her defeat.

"Hmmm," she hums contentedly, murmuring back, "love you too." She leans her forehead against her twin's birthmarked one, breathing out, letting her eyelids drift closed again.

"…Okay," she whispers.

"Okay?"

" _Okayyy_ ," she repeats, reaching up to take the hand in her hair and move it down between her legs, her eyes still closed.

She doesn't have to say anything more than that. Dipper tilts his head and kisses her again, slow and longing, his hand drifting up only to ease right back down between her shorts and underwear.

"Okay," he whispers back, his breath hot against her lips. The single, hushed word bursts with anticipation, making her heart beat faster still. Seriously, too fast to be healthy.

And then his mouth cozies right back up against hers, and his fingers start to move gently, and it's not too long at all before he gets her where she needs to go, maxi pad be damned. The Thursday Of Ickiness sure does end on a surprisingly good note.

Gah. Bless her sweet, wonderful sib. She's really gotta remember to slip a note or two or twelve in his lunch tomorrow.

PS: the only acceptable song to make out to

watch?v=Q2Ax21yobJ0&list=PL7638C4665CA61C8A&index=2


	7. Insecurities (5th in DB AU)

Insecurities

ayyyyyyy it's a pinecest fic!

so this fic takes place in the dream boy AU and happens about a month or so after the events of limbo, in the warm summer month of juuuune, pines twins are 17 in it goin on 18 in two months. includes twincest, tipsy mabel, nice-boy aiden, insecure dipper, face punching, cheese popcorn, a lame high school party, uhhh a bunch of smut.. yeah i didn't hold back man, this fic is definitely NSFW

i wrote it all out of order as usual so ah sure do hope this comes together ok for readers who are not me, bc i've been lookin at it for too long and now it's starting to look like a jumble of overly wordy word vomit that lasts for far too many pages. awyeaa i bet you're real geared up to read it meow!

um i guess this is technically the fifth one in the series, here are all the other fics that will make this fic make more sense to you (if you haven't read em), in order: uno, dos, tres, aaand angsty interlude cuatro, can't forget that little guy.

some might say that it's wrong for a man to love a wax figure of himself this is overkill, to add another 18000 word fic to this series of probs-overdramatic incesty soap operas,,. to that i say aha ha yeah maybe, oh well. enjoy kiddos!

From over the rim of his red solo cup, Dipper Pines casually watches his twin sister out on the dance floor–or rather, the fancy living room with furniture haphazardly pushed up against the walls– as she twirls, shimmies, shakes what her Mama gave her, and throws her hands in the air like she just doesn't care with her friends, Leigh and Sarah. Mabel is actually a pretty good dancer, he thinks. Even if she doesn't always know when to reel it in. Dipper's foot taps just barely along to the beat of the music, some remix of a popular hip hop song. He makes a point to be as cool as possible about watching Mabel, even though he highly doubts anyone in this room is really paying attention to what he's doing, anyway.

He switches his cup from one slightly damp palm to the other, brown eyes never straying too far from his sister. She looks really pretty in that sleeveless yellow sundress, a red Dahlia flower pinned up in her flowing brown curls. The way her silky hair whips around as she moves is sort of hypnotizing, let's be real. And when she starts to roll her hips along with the fast-paced music, it's really hard not to straight out creeper-stare at her ass and legs, the way they… well he doesn't want to say the word jiggle, that sounds kind of crude, but uhh… okay yeah. There's some definite jiggling goin' on over there. And it's definitely doing something for him. Dipper forces himself to look back up to her face, his cheeks dusted with pink. Nope, nah. Not the time, not the place.

Mabel catches Dipper's eye where he's awkwardly leaning up against the wall a good ways away from her. She makes a huge thing out of licking her thumb and adjusting her feet into a wide cowboy stance, then starts up the pretend-to-lasso-him move, but Dipper just throws her a no way look and a half smile, vigorously shaking his head. Mabel dramatically wilts at her brother's refusal to be pretend-lassoed, her arms swinging down into a slump and her lower lip sticking out. But she's soon back to grinning, waving a light hearted psssh gesture at him with her hand before twirling back over to her friends.

Dipper peels his eyes away from his twin, glancing around self-consciously as he takes another tiny sip of the cheap, light beer in his cup. There's no way he's going to be doing any dancing at this party. Especially not with Mabel, not here, amongst a hoard of judgey "cool kids" from their school.

He isn't out to get wasted tonight, either, still holding the same nearly-full cup he's had since Mabel thrust it into his hands half an hour ago. No, his only jobs tonight are to keep an eye on his sister, and count the minutes until they can leave.

Dipper is a little fuzzy on how Mabel managed to get him here in the first place. He isn't even sure why she wanted to come so badly. It's Brittney Ayers' graduation party. Brittney Ayers as in super-popular-known-member-of-Aiden-Zimmerman's-close-friend-group Brittney Ayers. And Aiden Zimmerman as in Mabel's-ex-boyfriend-who-Dipper-still-had-a-few-low-key-hang-ups-about Aiden Zimmerman. Oh yeah. That tall, pointy-haired, oh-so-nice-guy was indeed at this party, Dipper caught a glimpse of the dude in an adjoining room when they first slipped in the front door (or rather, Dipper slipped, Mabel barreled). Dipper had quickly trained his eyes forward and pretended that he hadn't seen anything, praying that Mabel hadn't noticed Aiden over there, either.

Ugh. Why would Mabel want to come to a party she knows for a fact her ex will be at? He doesn't get it.

Mabel's reasoning for coming had been a mix of 'My friend Sarah Barnes is a close friend of Brittney's and she told me I had an invite and everything's all good in the neighborhood,' and 'everyone will be there, plus I can't just avoid all of Aiden's friends forever, that's like, half the school, yo,' and 'come onnn Dip, it'll be fuuun, it's her last shindig before she goes off to college and wait'll you see Brittney's flippin' house, it's amazeeeballls!'

None of these arguments were the least bit compelling to the seventeen-year-old rising senior. He'd never been invited to nor gone to an infamous Brittney Ayers bash before, and that was always just fine and dandy with him. Dipper just isn't a huge crowd or wild-n-crazy-cool-kid-party sort of dude. He's a lay around in comfy pants and play videogames, read for pleasure, camp out in the woods to investigate strange footprints, small intimate gatherings sort of dude. Nothing wrong with that.

He supposes what really sold him on coming here was the look on Mabel's face when she'd started up the straight out begging, while secret-snuggling with him in his bed a few nights ago. Her eyes were big and shimmering, her pink lips pouting, her fingers softly curled into his t-shirt. She really, really wanted to go. He could tell. And Dipper couldn't help but also be very aware of the fact that Mabel doesn't really go to many parties since she'd stopped dating Aiden and started dating him. Yet another comparison that his jackass brain did not hesitate to draw up.

So… he'd begrudgingly agreed to tag along for the night.

Dipper is still on edge, though. The whole prom-dumping debacle is still fresh in people's minds, even though it happened over a month ago. And this is a party that is pretty much bursting with Aiden's close friends (ghhh, why do he and Mabel have to be here). Apparently Mabel could've stood to be a lot smoother about the way she ended it with her super-popular ex, from what he's overheard in passing.

Not that he has the slightest bit of a problem with the way Mabel dumped Aiden. On the contrary, he's an active supporter of it, since the whole reason Mabel dumped her oh-so-perfect-bf that night was so she could bike home in a poofy dress like a goofball and confess her love for him. Dipper. Yeah, that night was really real, he sometimes has to remind himself. One of the best nights of his life. After months and months of pining and self-loathing and believing that heart-wrenching thought that nothing could ever happen between them, and then after another month or so of way more depressing-and-pathetic pining after something did happen, the stormy seas have calmed, and he and Mabel are officially an item. A couple.

It amazes Dipper on the daily. Against a mountain of odds, Mabel actually fell for him, enough to want to date him, enough to want to call herself his girlfriend. This is not how things in his life usually go for him, like, there's got to be a catch, right? Seriously, it's been almost six weeks and it's still hard for him to believe he could really be this lucky. It still makes his stomach a stupid amount of giddy (almost to the point of queasiness, but good queasiness) whenever he hears her casually refer to him as 'boyfriend' – or bro-friend, or boyfwin, or main sib-squeeze, or significant brother, or whatever strikes her fancy that day. She'll switch names on him without warning, but Dipper couldn't care less; Mabel can call him whatever she damn well pleases as long as it means he's hers. Which he is. They really are a thing, seemingly weird as the concept sounds.

And… it's been going well. Like, really, really well. Unbelievably well. Zero catches to be found so far. It's hard for Dipper to stifle his giant, goofy smile just thinking about it.

After another fifteen minutes, Dipper has had his fill of being awkward guy on the sidelines while everybody else dances, despite how beautiful Mabel looks tonight. He waves to her until he gets her attention and gestures his finger over his shoulder, letting her know he's going off on his own for a bit, since Mabel doesn't look anywhere near done dancing. She gives him a wink and some cheerful finger guns from across the room, and the Pines twins temporarily part ways, Dipper sauntering out of the disco-ball-lit dancing room to go explore.

Eventually Dipper wanders outside, his eyebrows raising as he gets a load of the backyard. He's never been to a Brittney Ayers party before, sure, but damn. He doesn't think he's ever been to a house like this before (barring Northwest Manor/McGucket's new digs, but that place was a whole different ball game, more like a castle than a house).

There's an enormous, two-tiered, roofed porch with loads of fancy patio furniture and its own bar, soft lights strung up everywhere. One level seems to be for more dancing while the other for is for chilling and fake-bored laughing and smoking cigarettes, and weed too, by the smell of it… there's a brown stone pool with it's own friggin' waterfall that a bunch of seemingly-wasted jocks and girls in bikinis play chicken in (yeah, that seems real safe). There's a guest house, tiki torches, stone paths, benches everywhere, all wrapped up in this perfectly landscaped, hedged-in yard that seems to extend back forever before it hits the treeline.

Looking around, the whole thing sort of reminds him of Cher's over-the-top backyard from the movie Clueless (which he only knows because Mabel has forced him watch it with her like a million times… okay, fine, it's also an alright movie). This much space for one family seems a little much to Dipper, like it's laughable, really, how much grandeur this house is packin', but… yeah, he can sort of see why everybody is always yammering on about Brittney Ayers' parties.

Dipper takes another half-sip of beer, continuing his half hearted task of exploring as he waits for Mabel to tell him she's ready to go home. He's pleasantly surprised to run into a couple of his buddies from his old robotics team (well, they were still on the team, Dipper quit after two years to have more time to focus on schoolwork and the beginnings of college-searching), Aashish and Ruben. They look pleasantly surprised to see him here, too. Catching up with them eats away at some time, which Dipper is grateful for.

Aashish eventually leaves to go dance with a girl he'd been texting, leaving Dipper with just Ruben, who he isn't as good friends with and who is slightly awkward, isn't super great with social cues… Dipper offhandedly wonders how Ruben got an invite to this party as he listens to the short and stout, bespectacled, raven-haired dude talk about the same mechanical issue of the team's robot, Moe, for twenty solid minutes (not in a mean way! He's just genuinely curious, is all). Dipper nurses his same trusty red solo cup and diligently remains a polite, mildly interested conversation partner for a while longer before he spots a familiar curly haired, yellow-dress-wearing ball of energy tearing towards him on the lawn, coming up fast behind Ruben. Dipper grins into his cup, perking up at the sight of her. She bounds her way over to the two boys, casually slinging her arms around both their shoulders– Ruben's wide eyes and dropped jaw makes it look like he doesn't come into close contact with a lot of girls too often, and Dipper has to hold in a laugh.

"Hey guys! How're we all doin' here?" Mabel greets breathlessly, her cheeks rosy, her hair looking a bit more mussed than when Dipper last saw her. "Rubes! Long time no see my man! How's ol' robo-Moe doing?" Ruben starts to stutter something out but Mabel continues with her fast talking, "cool thaz'awesome, keep up the good work! Hey-yo, Dippity-dawg, so, Mom just called. Looks like we gotta," she takes her arms back to dramatically sweep them down and back up again, snapping her fingers, "bounce. Family biz that needs immediate attention, you know how it goes." She grabs onto Dipper's band tee and starts to lead him away before anybody can say a word, addressing Ruben over her shoulder, who just stares after the pair blankly, "sorry Rubes, gotta borrow this kid, official Pines business 'n all that jazz, thank youuuu, bye!"

Mabel proceeds to march ahead of him, dragging Dipper behind her. She weaves them both through the hoard of teenagers near the pool and on the patio, not letting go of him until they're back inside, standing in a corner of a hallway where the music is loud enough so they can talk semi-privately. Dipper quirks an eyebrow, fixing the shirt sleeve where Mabel jostled him. "Mom called? You didn't answer it where she could hear partying in the background, did you?"

Mabel lays a solemn hand on his shoulder. "Dipper, this is serious. This family biz needs your specific and immeeeediate attention."

Dipper frowns down at the small hand on shoulder and then back at his twin, starting to worry a little (but if it was a real emergency, wouldn't Mom have called him too?). "Uh, okay? What's going on?"

"Ahem. Our madre wants… you to go to the store… and pick up… some cheese popcorn," Mabel tilts her head down to look at him knowingly through her bangs and her long, long lashes, her eyes growing comically wide, "immediately." Then her face springs like a mouse trap from overly-serious to wacky and grinning.

Dipper blanches, his heart rate picking up speed. Shit. This was a set up. There was no Mom phone call, they're not "bouncing" home at all. Cheese popcorn is Mabel's code word for when she's in the mood to…

Dipper instantly starts shaking his head, lowering his voice and getting extremely shifty-eyed even though to anyone around them, it still sounds like they're talking about snacks. "No. No cheese popcorn here. No way."

But the more he shakes his head no, the faster Mabel shakes her head yes, and the wider her maniacal smile becomes. Soon she seems unable to contain the giddy energy she's radiating and breaks down dancing in front of him– one hand cups around her mouth as she crouches down and bounces from foot to foot (she sort of looks like a skittering, bouncy leprechaun, if he had to describe it), sing-yelling The Power by Snap.

"I've got the powwwahh! S'gettin, s'gettin, s'gettin kinda hectic, s'gettin, s'gettin, s'gettin kinda hectic–"

A few heads turn in their direction. Dipper looks on with a squint and a half smile at his suddenly groovin' sister, scratching the side of his face and trying not to be embarrassed by the attention she's drawing to them. This is some pretty damn spirited public-silly-leprechaun-dance-rapping, even for Mabel… hold up. Dipper's eyebrows skyrocket. "Wait, Mabel are you drunk?"

Mabel's weird dancing comes to a halt and she gives him with a big, guilty smile. "Nooo…'course not…" She pokes his arm a few times, "are you… not drunk?"

"No. I mean, yes, I'm not–"

"Oh! Well then," she puts a scandalized hand over her heart. "We can certainly fix that problem, brubs, let's go get a delicious beverage in you. And then after that go hit up the snacks table that has the cheese popcorn on it if ya know what I'm sayin, ya know, ya know bro," she elbows him suggestively, speaking out of the corner of her mouth, "mmhm bro, I think you know."

Oh, crap. Dipper has only personally met drunk Mabel once before, at their cousins' house last Christmas after some spiked 'nog. And if last Christmas was any indication, drunk Mabel was not the most subtle, quiet, or discreet individual around. The literal complete opposite, no joke. She'd revealed some pretty choice embarrassing info about herself, and about Dipper (no one else needed to know about the location of the mole he'd had to have removed when he was nine or about his vast collection of NOW CDs, come on, Mabel) to their giggling cousins, much to his chagrin. And that loud-mouthed drunk Mabel incident had happened long before he and Mabel had, hmm, what are the words he's looking for… oh yeah, entered into a committed romantic incestuous relationship.

Mabel was not a drinker. She did not hold her alcohol well. Dipper's protect-Mabel-and-their-relationship alarm bells start to blare like an air raid siren.

"Nope, I do not, no idea what you're talking about, sorry," Dipper affirms quickly, taking Mabel's shoulders and turning her around to start marching both of them towards the front door. "Ho-kay sis, I think we've seen enough of this place, don't you? I'm beat, it's bedtime, time to go home–"

Mabel breaks out of his shoulder-grip and spins around, an affronted expression on her face. "What?! Nooo! Party time's just gettin' started, bro!" She pokes him hard in the shoulder, reverting back to her over-the-top grinning. "Besides, I got a surprise for you, and I think you're really gonna like ittttt…" Dipper just shakes his head at her, his eyes perfect circles, trying to yell whatever-you're-thinking-is-bad-please-do-not at her with only his eyeballs. Mabel whines again, her arms flopping sadly. "Nooo don't give me that this-is-a-bad-idea Dipper look! Just– just hear me out." She swings her arm around his neck and crouches down conspiratorially, and after a discouraged huff, Dipper plays along and crouches down too. "Okay. Okay. Here's the plan. So. I'mma gonna leave, and you're gonna keep standing here all cool-like. And in a few minutes I'm gonna text you some supah-secret directions and you haaaave to follow them no matter what."

"Um, I do not agree to this. At all."

"Aw come on man, you don't even know what you're not agreeing to! Please Dipper, just play along? For me?" Mabel tilts her head far to the right and breaks out her giant brown begging eyes. Dammit. He can't stand that that move actually sort of works on him now. Dipper straightens back up, looking anxiously over his shoulder and back at his sister.

"Mabel, please, I just wanna–"

For some unknown reason Mabel takes Dipper's unfinished plea of wanting to go home as a hard yes, for she springs up, claps her hands several times, and gives him a pat on the back. "Awesomesauce! Don't forget, keep an eye on your phone! Follow the directions exactly!"

And she skips down the hall, her brown curls flying like a cape behind her as she rounds a corner and out of sight. Dipper's face falls as he stares down the hall after her. He closes his eyes and groans to himself before slumping back against the wall, defeated. Looks like drunk Mabel isn't the best listener, either. Ssssonovabitch. Is he ever gonna be able to escape this got-real-old-real-fast party? And more importantly, what the hell is Mabel up to that involves public places, cheese popcorn, and weird secret texting directions?

Nothing that is a safe and-or good idea, most likely.

Dipper nervously taps his fingers against his leg as he waits for his phone to buzz in his shorts pocket, chewing his lip and actively avoiding eye contact with anybody who passes him. After a few minutes of nervous-sweating alone in a dim hallway, he finally feels that telltale vibration, and almost drops his phone on the ground in the process of fumbling to get it out of his pocket and opening the message as soon as possible. His anxiety mounts higher as his eyes quickly scan over the words.

M: hey brooo, time 4 a lil game of hide n seek.. if u wanna find ur ~*super special surprise*~, get ur cutie patootie up the stairs on the !-left-! side of the house and go to the door the end of the hall and be real sneaky bout going in there, then walk up to the big ol doubledoor closet and knock on it 2 the beat of funkytown. funkytown only! very important 2 get that part rite!

Buzz.

M: Ps it's the door the end of the hall w/ the schmancypants footstool thing in front of it, no1 will b in there cos its an OFF LIMITS ROOOM dun dun dunnnnn. and u better come nerd bc ur super special surprise is not leavin here w/o uuuuuu 333

Buzz.

Aaaaaand she caps off the string of messages with about twenty-five kissy face emojis. Real subtle, Mabel.

Dipper looks to his left and right from force of habit, clicking off his phone screen. It's really not hard to figure out what Mabel is up to, and he's more against the idea than ever. There were so many people here, so many people who knew exactly who the Pines twins were, at least in passing, so many people! She's crazy if she thinks he's gonna fool around with her anywhere in this house. There was no way. No freaking way.

But dammit– his shoulder slump– Mabel said she wasn't leaving without him, and she's up there waiting for him all excited, all by herself in some strangers' closet…. ah, crap. Crap, crap, crap, he's going to have to go up there and get her, isn't he. And she isn't gonna make that task an easy one, that's a given.

Hands in his pockets, oh-so-casually glancing over his shoulders all along the way, Dipper strolls his way over to the wooden staircase that led to the rooms in the left wing of the house (this house has wings! honestly), and just as casually makes his way up. He passes a couple of laughing guys on the stairs, careful to keep his head down, annoyed at himself for forgetting to grab his hat on their way out of the house earlier. Luckily the two guys look pretty gone alcohol-wise and don't seem to notice him even a little bit. When Dipper reaches the top, his eyes immediately fall on the doors down the hallway that have furniture in front of them: one has a few stools in front of it, and the other, the door directly at the end, is blocked off by a large, ornate ottoman. Dipper swallows, his mouth feeling dry all of a sudden, as he fast-walks towards the latter. He looks over his shoulder one last time when he reaches it– no one there, entry is a go– then turns the knob, climbing over the ottoman and crossing the threshold.

Silently pushing the door shut behind him, Dipper turns around and surveys the room, his pulse racing. Muffled loud music thumps through the floor, the hip-hop beat out of place in this quiet, pristine, rich-looking, yet conservatively decorated bedroom. Just as Mabel predicted, there's not a soul in here. Apparently the furniture-in-front-of-the-door trick to keep people out is actually working out for Brittney.

Uh, until now, that is.

A familiar giggle spouts off from the closet in the corner of the room. Dipper rolls his eyes and shakes his head– yup, he's definitely in the right place. He approaches the closet nervously and cautiously, looking over his shoulder several times even though he just closed the door. Tiny beads of sweat form on the back of his neck. Ah, man. What is he doing in here? This is a bad idea, such a bad idea…

Dipper takes a breath, double-checking Mabel's specific directions for him on his phone before pocketing it and raising his fist. She's not going to leave on her own, she made that clear. And he's not about to leave her waiting in there all night… that would just earn him guilt and a smack to the back of the head later.

Okay. Okay. He's just gonna get in there, grab Mabel, and promptly get the hell out, and if she really wants to fool around, they can ditch this party and go home (which conveniently works out for him, 'cause that's all he's been wanting to do since they got here).

No sooner has he knocked the rhythm of Won't-you-take-me-to-Funkytown on one of the wooden double doors than two surprisingly strong arms pop out and grab his t-shirt collar to drag him inside; he yelps, suddenly finding himself in Brittney Ayers' parents' walk in closet. It smells sort of like a musty shoe store in here. And it's dark, but there's more than enough light streaming in from the crack between the closed doors to see the tipsy, lusty sparkle in Mabel's eyes as she stares him down, her fingers still curled into his shirt.

Quickly, Dipper puts his hands on his sister's shoulders to hold her off before she can jump him. "Mabel," he says as sternly as he can manage with her staring at him like that, "I'm only in here to drag your butt out of here."

"Mm, what's that? You wanna do what with my butt?" Mabel giggles and reaches around to pinch his ass. Dipper flinches, his left eye twitching a little, but stands firm.

"Nope. I mean it. We're leaving, c'mon." He takes her hand and tries to pull her towards the closet doors but Mabel digs the heels of her jelly sandals into the fluffy carpet without budging. Yeesh, she's strong.

"You don't wanna make out with me even a liiiiittle bit?" She juts out her bottom lip, giving him her most hardcore puppydog eyes, airily swishing the skirt of her cute yellow dress back and forth.

That gets him to hesitate– only for a second, though. "What I want is irrelevant right now," Dipper says matter-of-factly, "We're in public Mabel, and like half the frickin' school is at this house, there is absolutely no way–"

"–Cheesepopcorn!" Mabel whisper-yells just before she barrels forward, snakes her arms tightly around his neck and cuts off his stern talkin'-to by locking her lips onto his.

"Mmph–! No, Mabe–stmm–" Dipper's head reels back but Mabel's follows too quickly for him to escape. Overwhelmed by extra-forward tipsy Mabel, Dipper finds himself closing his eyes and letting her attack his face with her lips, despite himself. Gah, he's weak.

"Kiss– kiss– kiss– I– love– kissin'– this– face!" Mabel giggles between pecks to his nose, his scruffy chin, both his cheeks, and of course, lips. She coaxes his mouth open with some choice lip movements and darts in her tongue to run it along his, and Dipper is immediately greeted with the strong taste of alcohol. He breaks off the kiss, his eyes widening incredulously.

"Holy shit Mabel, how much did you drink?"

"I dee kayyyy, like, four?" She laughs before sloppily smushing her lips against his again.

"O-okay, but four what," Dipper continues the next time he manages to free his mouth from his sister's overeager kisses. "Like four beers, or four of those juice things, or—"

"Shhhh already, you're ruining the magic. Ya nerrrrrd." She presses a dramatic 'muah' of a peck to the corner of his mouth, pulling back to gaze at him tipsily-but-sweetly. "My nerd. My magic-ruining nerd. Ahh, this guyyy," she cups his pink cheeks, pushing them together hard enough to give him fish lips, "I flippin love this guy–" And the Mabel kiss attack recommences.

"Mm– But, but—" Dipper tries, but the stutters abruptly stop when he feels his twin's hand slide down to cup (more like grab) the crotch of his shorts. He sucks in a sharp breath and bites his lip as Mabel presses her lips to his neck with a little hum. He lets her rub him in relative silence for a bit before his protective instincts kick back in. "Oh shit, ohh shit, nope, this is nooot a…" he murmurs, his voice light and strained, cutting himself off with a gasp when he feels her lightly squeeze his steadily hardening junk, "a-ah, Mabel no, this isn't a good idea, someone could walk in—"

"Dipper shut upppp and let me do stuff to you, I jus'wanna do stuffff," she purrs against his neck.

Fuck. More blood rushes into his groin at her words, much against his will. "Come on, Mabel. You're drunk…" Dipper says softly, hating that he was still letting this happen. This was breaking like, every protect-his-and-Mabel's-relationship rule in the book.

"Yeah, well, I'd wanna do stuff to you if I was sober too. So nyah," she sticks her tongue out at him, "And eff-why-eye, brother, I'm not that drunk. I'mma perfectly consenting lady." She pulls back to look him in the eye and he can see her slightly glazed-over eyes lighting up with an idea. Her lips stretch into a wide, toothy grin. Ohh boy… "Ya know what, my lil' Dipster? I jussst realized what I wanna do to you."

She pokes a glittery blue fingernail into the center of his chest at the word 'you.' Dipper's heart leaps. "Mabel, please, let's just go back downstairs, w-we can go home if you want to–"

"Mm-mm, already decided! This is happenin' cappenin'. Ruh-now. Oh my gosh, I can't believe I've never done this to you before," Mabel muses with a giggle, reaching for his belt, "and we've been a thing for how long, now? Suh-say whaaat? This's overdue, my dude."

She not-so-gracefully flops down to her knees and Dipper goes full bug-eyed, his face flushing pure crimson as what she's got in mind for him finally sinks in.

"What? Mabes are you crazy? We can't— we are not doing this here—"

"Oooh but I think we areeee," Mabel singsongs, her clumsy, excited fingers already in the process of undoing his belt buckle. Dipper's eyes dart skittishly from Mabel-on-her-knees to the closet door and back to Mabel-on-her-knees. He gnaws on his bottom lip, his conviction to move forward with the extract-Mabel-from-the-closet plan suddenly faltering. Due to certain reactions going on down below, there's a preeeetty big part of him (well, okay, average-sized part of him, according to that time he broke down and broke out a ruler) that would very much like to back down and uh, y'know, just let Mabel do her thing, but—

—But no. No, no way, what the hell is he even thinking, they can't— practically half their class was at this party and if somebody were to walk in here and find Mabel with his— in her mouth—

The hypothetical, but entirely horrifying scenario has Dipper hastily grabbing his sister's hands, stopping her in her tracks. He throws her the strictest look he can muster.

"Mabel! It's not happening, okay? Give it up."

She pouts hard, collapsing into a dramatic slouch. "Aww, no fair. Other people git'ta do stuff with their boyfriends in closets at parties, how come I don't?"

Dipper frowns. "You know why. I should not have to explain to you why this is a horrible idea."

Mabel blows an obnoxiously wet raspberry. "C'mon, man, no one's lookin' for us, and no one's gonna come in."

"You don't know that for sure, so can we please just— just…" Ahhcrap. It's hard to form sentences when Mabel is where Dipper has only ever seen her in his dreams, on her knees in front of him, batting her eyelashes in a way that's somehow both funny and cute, dancing her fingers along the backs of his thighs… Dipper looks away, talking fast. "Canwepleasegobackdownstairs? Please?"

"Sure we can, bruh! In like, eight minutos." She taps her chin. "Well, maybe more like four. Haa. Jay-kay broseph, seven, totally at least seven fo' sho'. Mua-ha-heee."

Dipper grumbles up towards the ceiling of the spacious closet, choosing to ignore the shot at his bedroom stamina. Ugh, she's not listening to him. As usual. "Mabel, we're not… I feel like you're not getting that, that you and me, we can't just…"

"Are you suuuriously turning me down right now?" His sister-and-now-also-girlfriend interrupts him with a skeptical half giggle, half scoff. "Cosss, um… it reeeeally doesn't seem like you wanna do that, bro. Just sayin'." To prove her point she leans forward to nuzzle her nose along the evident lump in his shorts, giving him a saucy wink. She laughs when his shorts bulge gives a little twitch in response. Dipper drops his red face into his hands, letting out a torn groan.

"Dammit, Mabes… you're making it really hard to be the responsible one here." Mabel says nothing, just keeps nuzzling, wiggling her eyebrows and giving his clothed crotch a teasing peck. And then another… ohh god… Dipper rakes his teeth over his bottom lip. His voice is on the high-pitched side when he finally manages to speak again. "Really, really hard… ngh."

"That ain't the only thing really hard around these parts, right Mabel? Haha, good one, Mabel! Ayyyyo!" Mabel lifts her hand victoriously and gives herself a high five for a joke well done. Dipper rolls his eyes.

"Ha-ha, soo funny."

"I know right? I'm hilarious! But anyways. The responser- the responsible thing. Wait what was I gonna say again?" She hiccups, which somehow jogs her memory. "Oh yeah! I was gonna say, blarghhhhh! Responsibility is so boring, Dipper-ee-doo. It's— s'why you got me. Your beautimous girlfwin. I help you let loose. Yeee-haw." Mabel's fingers skitter up to lift his shirt again, revealing the belt she's already unbuckled. She pauses and makes a 'whaa' face, waiting for him to stop her, but… Dipper can't bring himself to do it. Grinning a very excessive grin that involves all her teeth, Mabel slowly unbuttons the tan cargo shorts and inches down the zipper, looking a scary amount of elated. "Muahaa! I knew you'd see it my way, bro-bro."

"M-Mabel."

She pauses, her fingers hooked in between his shorts and the waistband of his underwear. "Yesss?"

Dipper rubs his neck. "I just… ground rules, y'know? If, if we hear anyone coming—"

"Stop right away and pretend we weren't just havin' sketchy bro-sis times in a closet. Aye aye cap'n, 'tis a promise," she salutes him. "So that's a for real green light, then?"

Dipper gives her a nervous little nod, taking in a deep, trembling breath, his eyes directed up at the ceiling. He still thinks this is a terrible idea. But dammit… Mabel is practically begging to go down on him. Like, come on. He's only human. His willpower is only so strong.

"Yayyy surprise bee-jays!" Mabel cheers, yanking his shorts down so that his erection bobs out suddenly, on the verge of poking through the slit in his boxers. Dipper winces, breathing in sharply.

"H-hey, take it easy down there, will you?"

"Oopsie. My bad." She sends him a small, apologetic smile and he manages one back at her. "No worries bro, me an' lil' Dips here are like, besties now. I prooomise to do right by him." Dipper blushes at her weird-but-gets-him-goin-anyway dirty talk as she carefully eases down his underwear until they've joined his shorts around his ankles. She giggles at the sight of him swaying in the air right in front of her face.

"Hey there, friend. Gettin' a little more up close an' personal today," she coos in a voice that's a lot more silly than it is sexy, but she's trying anyway, which Dipper happens to find adorable (just add it to the zillions of reasons why he loves Mabel). Her nails graze up the fine hair on his thighs as she pokes out her tongue and sidles forward on her knees, leaning in. Dipper starts to hold his breath without realizing it. Mabel keeps leaning until her tongue just barely touches the very tip of his dick, making his body jump the slightest bit. She holds her position, slurs out, "oneee mithithipeeeee," and then reels away, clapping her hands together.

"Shabam! Successful blow job, check. Good work out there today everyone!"

Dipper actually starts spluttering. "Wh— that— u-um, okay?"

"Haha! I'm kidding, dork!"

"Oh— right, haha—"

Dipper's awkward laughter dies a quick death when he suddenly feels Mabel's full, soft lips pressed against the head of his dick, where she pecks him. One of her hands takes hold of his shaft, lifting him up so she can lavish the underside with teasing little licks. O-oh, holy shit. A strangled sound escapes him against his will as Mabel affectionately kisses her way up his flushed, sensitive skin before sucking gently on the tip, circling him with her tongue— and that cord inside of him is suddenly pulled taut.

Fuck, man, just, the sight of her down there between his legs, the heat, the wetness of her mouth and texture of her tongue, how is he ever going to… she keeps up with the dainty sucking on the very tip of him and the cord gets pulled tighter, and tighter, and when Mabel glances up to look at him with her best cutesy innocent face, Dipper quite abruptly finds himself at the brink (no thanks to the repeating phrase of 'oh my god my dick is in her mouth she is sucking my dick oh my god' that won't stop blaring off in his brain like an amazed, horny siren)–oh no. No, no, oh god, he can't be done already, now that's just fucking embarrassing. Seriously man? She literally just started!

Dipper forces himself to look away, his eyelids slamming shut tightly. He clenches his teeth, trying to focus on breathing. He feels her tongue run firmly back and forth several times over the slit, as if she's trying hard to really get a taste of him, then slither its way down to press and lick the sensitive spot just under the head—a gasp bursts from his lips, followed by a whimper. Oh fuck, how is she so good at this? This is the first time she's done it, right? Okay, you can do this, man. Just Inhale, exhale. Do not explode— do not explode—

Luckily (depends on how he looks at it) Dipper feels something a little too sharp scraping over him, the resulting surprise and slight pain taking the worst of the edge off. He jolts, his hips instinctively edging away, "a-ah, Mabel, teeth— teeth—"

Mabel backs right off of him, her cheeks flushed and her expression a little shamefaced, "oh, sorry, whoopsie! Did I hurt you?"

"Nah, I-I'm fine, it's okay." He shoots a crooked smile her way to let her know it really is fine. She gratefully smiles back at him, her lips then pursing in thought.

"Huh. Do teeth really feel that bad?"

"Um? They're not… great. Sensitive area, you know?" Dipper shrugs, glancing back up at the ceiling, "also teeth imply biting. Which is bad. And scary."

Mabel makes the a-ok sign with both hands. "Teeth, bad 'n scary. Readin' ya loud 'n clear, broface."

She doesn't give him a chance to get another word in before she leans forward and takes him in her mouth again, quickly upping the ante by bobbing her head down to fit as much of him in there as she can, her fingertips tracing his hipbones and caressing down his thighs. Dipper's legs tremble, his knees going weak.

"Ohh, f-fuck…"

Mabel slowly moves off of him with a wet pop, a trail of drool already dribbling down her chin— Dipper's eyes nearly pop out of his head as he watches it drip. "Good oh eff-word or bad oh eff-word?" she asks him breathlessly, a ridiculous amount of cheeriness in her tone.

"Good," he gasps out, "really really good."

"Haa. I knew that, I just wanted to hear ya say it."

Dipper attempts an eye roll but doesn't get the chance to finish it before his eyes are rolling into the back of his head, eyelids fluttering, jaw slackening, because Mabel has moved her head down again and jumped right back into the spirited-blow-job fray– sinking a good ways down his shaft, sucking hard as she moves back up, her tongue caressing him all the way… repeating the action several mind-numbing times, then pausing to hold him in her hand and lick him as enthusiastically as he's seen her go at a bomb-pop on one particularly hot Fourth of July– uhh yeah, he takes about a hundred thousand mental pictures of that one. And then Mabel catches his eye, giving him a goofy wink while she sucks and slurps at the head before taking the vast majority of him in her mouth all over again, clearly unphased by the loud, crude noises that fill the closet space as she bobs her head, again and again, her gorgeous, fluffy curls bouncing on her creamy shoulders, ohh sweet Jesus Christ thisisthefuckingbestthingever–

A few of Mabel's fingers start to pump up and down what she can't fit past her lips. Dipper moans, feeling blissfully overwhelmed. He nearly jumps and then gulps when he suddenly feels the fingertips of her other hand tracing over his balls, his Adam's apple bobbing hard along his neck. After a bit more delicate tracing she cups them in her hand, ever-so-gently thumbing him—oh holy fuck, he doesn't think she's ever touched him there before, why does this feel so amazing?! Dipper's face becomes a ridiculous shade of red, his mouth hanging wide open, his feet shuffling a little as he tries to keep his balance standing on these parted, useless gelatin legs of his. Goddamn, he can't take his eyes off her. Can't stop watching himself disappear and then reappear past her swollen pink lips…although he probably should, because yet again, even though it's probably barely been another minute, he's finding himself dangerously close to the finish line.

Oh, ohhh shit, yup, if things keep going exactly the way they're going for another ten seconds or so, he's gonna shoot off like a damn bottle rocket. He's supposed to ask before he does that anywhere near her mouth, right? Aren't those the standard rules? Shit, he needs to say something to her, like, now, oh god, how do you even word a question like that? To your twin sister? Shitshitshit. It's really hard to think about anything besides how good this feels, and he really does not want it to be over so soon, but fuuuck, she is relentless…!

"Nnghhahh, u-um, wait, Mabelcouldyoumaybejust—"

"Wmmffth?" She mumbles around him before she moves back and lets him fall out of her mouth with a 'bwahp' noise that makes his stomach drop like a rock. "Whuzzat?"

"Ss–slow down a little maybe?" Dipper squeaks, his eyes screwed shut.

"How cooome?" Mabel asks innocently, busying herself by dragging her lips up and down the side of his length.

He whines helplessly. "Are you gonna make me say it?"

"…No. Wait. Yis."

"Fine," Dipper says, his voice tight. "I, am about to… you know, and, i-if I'm being honest I would rather not do that yet because you are really, really good at this and also I… I do not know if you want that happeninginyourmouth so uh," the words tumble out in a rush before Dipper lets his head flop back against the rack of suit jackets behind him, breathing hard, "yeah, that's where I'm at. Do with that information what you will, I guess?"

"You know what, I will do with that information with what I will do."

"That made no se—gnuhh—"

Oh, yikes. Thaaaat was an objectively embarrassing sound he made there just now. Aaand she's back on him again. But to Mabel's credit, aside from that initial surprise nom she does majorly let up, slowing down to nuzzle and tease him and allow him to calm himself a little, rather than unceremoniously chucking his awkward sweaty self over the finish line.

Dipper hums a deep, dreamy sound. He closes his eyes and lets his head loll back against the rack of expensive suits, very much in heaven. He's suddenly super fucking glad he dragged himself out to this not-so-stupid-after-all graduation party. Sighing contentedly, he starts to stroke his long fingers through his sister's soft brown locks, eventually using both hands to gently massage her scalp. Mabel purrs on him, sending a shiver down his spine and a stomach-flipping throb to his cock. She zigzags her tongue along the underside of his shaft when she pulls off him again, moving tantalizingly slow, causing Dipper to let out a long, amorous groan.

"Mmm, tha'feels sooo nice, Dip," She murmurs against his pulsing skin, her eyes closed. He shudders and says nothing, just keeps stroking her hair. When he opens his eyes again he finds her staring up at him. His heart flutters up a storm. "Will you lemme know when you're close again?"

"Y-yeah, of course."

"Kewl beans. And, uhm, you can do ehhhht, bee-tee-dubs."

Dipper squints in confusion, the Waterboy accent throwing him off. "Uh, I what?"

"You can do your thang. In muh mouth. Just give me a little warning, kay-kay?" Mabel's eyebrows wiggle up and down like no tomorrow, her cheeks very, very red. And he doesn't intend for his jaw to drop so obviously and stupidly, but it does, and there was really no stopping it. Dipper's entire body flushes anew, his cock jumping noticeably in her hand, and when his brain automatically replays Mabel's last few sentences it twitches again.

Dude. Say words already.

"Oh– um yeah I'll, I'll definitely– yeah. Cool." Er… no lie, he almost came all over the place just from hearing her give him the permission.

Mabel giggles at his super-suaveness, gifting him with another one of those sweet smiles that make him sort of, yeah, straight up weak at the knees. Her lashes fall shut and she sticks out her tongue to thoroughly clean up the pre that won't stop leaking out of him. Dipper's breathing picks up volume and speed once again, the pressure that's been slowly simmering higher edging closer to its peak– oh fuck, he's so close to cumming and this time he's entirely ready for it, needing it, actually– his half-lidded eyes greedily rake in the sight of Mabel's tongue dragging from base to tip and back again in one long swipe, then she lifts him up with one hand while her tongue circles around to trail curiously away from his cock, down to his balls, and Dipper hears himself moan again, a breathy, high-pitched sound– oh Jesus oh holy shit she just did that she's still doing it– oh god wow okay so obviously he knew Mabel loved him long before she put her mouth all over his nuts of her own free will and volition, but now it's officially official, she definitely, definitely loves him – Oh god oh god this is unreal, like it's insane how absurdly good this feels, how easily capable she is of making him feel like this, holy crap he loves her, sooo fucking much oh my god–

"Mabes I-Im," is all Dipper manages to huff out, his fingers curling into her hair. The words are barely audible through his ragged breathing, but Mabel catches it and flies up to draw the tip of his cock back into her mouth. Her head moves with quick little bobs, eyes sparkling and smiling up at him, hand jacking him with abandon, plainly enjoying what she's doing to him, for him, and for the life of him Dipper can't get his head around any of it, he really can't– man, who knew tonight would turn out to be like, one of the best nights of his life–

But then the sound of faraway-but-definitely-approaching footsteps registers in his ears, and the little slice of heaven Dipper is floating on comes crashing back down to Earth. Violently.

"Ohshit," Dipper squeaks, his heart leaping in the most sickening way, hot, prickling fear settling in so fast that it spooks away his impending orgasm. The savage clash of dread and arousal makes him dizzy. "Shit," he repeats weakly when Mabel shows zero signs of stopping, "I-I think someone's coming – fuck, okay, we gotta stop–" his legs wobble and his dick throbs in protest as Dipper backs his hips away with every intention of dashing down to yank his shorts back up, but Mabel follows by scooting forward on her knees, her arms hugging around his legs, not letting him get away from her.

"Whaaat, like they're just headed straight for Brittney's parents' closet? Yeah, right." She smirks and makes a show of popping the head of his cock just past her lips with a little 'thwip' that makes him grunt.

"For all we know, yeah, they are!" Dipper hisses frantically. But unfortunately four-drink Mabel doesn't seem to be catching onto the gravity of the situation, only keeps sucking on him slowly, laughter in her eyes, while Dipper's eyes fill with crippling panic. The footsteps get closer.

"Mabel, please–"

"Mmmmff–"

He's answered with nothing but a slurp, and the footsteps definitely seem to be headed in this direction, holy fuck, what is she trying to do–?

"Mabel please, just—seriously, we can't—Mabel, stop!" Dipper hisses out the harsh whisper with a notable tremble in his voice as he does the first thing he can think of and pushes hard on her shoulders, effectively freeing himself from her mouth with a loud, wet gasp on her part. He starts to dash down for his shorts but freezes in place when the door to Brittney's parents' room creaks open– oh god, holy fucking god–

He waits, hardly daring to breathe. The footsteps get closer, then pass and continue into the attached master bathroom. After he hears sound of a door closing, Dipper breathes out, a relieved hand at his heart. When he looks down again, he finds his sister staring up at him, her eyes wide and hurt.

Oh… uh oh.

"That– that wasn't–" Dipper starts the sentence without knowing how he would end it, and Mabel doesn't wait around for him to fumble for words.

"Did you have to shove me so hard?" She asks, her former bubbly-tipsy voice turned cold, tears gathering in her eyes. Oh no. Tears? Oh god, he did basically shove her, didn't he? Nice fucking move, man.

"Shit, Mabes, I'm sorry. It was just— I thought—"

"Someone was comin', yeah. Well, they didn't come in here, so." She looks away from him, glaring at a pile of shoeboxes in the corner.

"I'm sorry I pushed you, I shouldn't've done that. God, I shouldn't've let this happen in the first place," Dipper says in a small voice, dragging a hand down the side of his face. She responds with nothing but silence so his defensive babble-whispers keep coming, "but Mabel, come on, someone got close enough to come in the room and you wouldn't even…! Like you promised me earlier you would stop and you didn't, I was just trying to—"

"—Ohh my freaking gosh, Dipper, if you say 'protect us' one more time I'm gonna… blargh!" She waves her hands around in the air in a frustrated manner before letting them thump to the floor. Dipper frowns deeply, falling silent. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Mabel wipes the drool from her chin with one hard drag of her hand and teeters to her feet, avoiding his eyes. "Forget it. Jus' leave me alone."

And she walks herself right out of the closet, silently shutting the door behind her, leaving Dipper alone in the dark with his shorts and underwear still pooled around his ankles.

He stares, shocked and upset, at the closed closet door for a good long while before coming to his senses. There's still someone in the adjoining bathroom, and he's standing alone in a closet half naked like an idiot. Get it together, man. Shakily, Dipper bends to pull his shorts back up, fiddling and squinting in the darkness to get his belt re-buckled, noting with an annoyed sigh that his erection has mostly survived the awkward madness. Great. Just great. He glares at it and stubbornly finishes buckling his belt anyway. His brain appears to be in staticky standby mode as it attempts to process the last five minutes of his life; eventually Dipper smacks his hands against his forehead, dragging them heavily down his flushed face with a groan.

Well, that went reeeeal fucking well…

Okay, all that stuff he thought about this day being the best and suddenly loving this party? Yeah, he takes it all back. The whole thing is back to sucking.

He grimaces a little. Ugh, bad choice of words.

Dipper reluctantly glances back down at the boner that he just squashed back into his shorts. Then of course the very recent image of Mabel between his legs and shamelessly going to town on him pops into his head, and he's right back to being painfully hard, the bulge in his shorts super obvious. He grumbles out a whine, leaning his head against the wall, heat radiating off his cheeks. Ugh, he can't go back down there like this…

Cursing himself, this dumb party he never wanted to come to, and whoever just haaad to use the bathroom in this blocked-off room, Dipper rolls his eyes and begrudgingly reaches for his belt again. But he stops halfway through pulling it out of the loop.

Man… the idea of jerking off at Brittney Ayers' grad party, alone in the dark in her parents' closet like a creepo, after everything that just happened (and after he was this close to cumming into Mabel's warm, eager mouth, god), is… eugh. It is very fucking unappealing, to say the least.

Yeahh… pass.

With that Dipper plops himself down on the carpet, gearing up his mental arsenal of boner-killing-thoughts. The fact that Mabel ditched him in here all alone with his pants down is a pretty effective boner-killing thought in itself, but he tries hard to avoid thinking about that one. Dipper sighs, resting his head in his hands as he waits for his erection to go down.

Downstairs, Mabel slowly makes her way through the crowd towards the little side room where the table full of drinks is kept, feeling annoyingly sober all of a sudden. Music is back to thumping so loudly that it vibrates in her chest, but she's not feeling the idea of puttin' her dancey-pants back on, either. She wipes her mouth again with the back of her hand, swiping off some of the spit she missed, her cheeks pink.

Stupid Dipper, with his obsessive, stifling relationship rules and regulations… so what if he was right about her going back on her promise to stop if she heard anything. No one actually came in! And dangit, for once she didn't want to have to think about the rules, she just wanted to be a regular ol' cool cat at a party with her bf and finish living out dream fantasy number seventy-six … and he was so close, so deliciously wrapped around her lil' finger, she just wanted to follow through and get him there, like, what's so wrong with that? Some would say that's the mark of a good girlfriend, not a bad promise-breaky one! And certainly not one who deserves to get pushed while she's in the middle of… of… stuff. Ugh, that was so flippin' humiliating. Ughhh.

Too caught up in her pouting to acknowledge any of the peeps around her, Mabel sad-floats her way up to the drinks table, starting to pour more that jungle juice stuff into a fresh red solo cup. She jumps and nearly spills her drink when a loud snort sounds off like, right behind her.

"Oh my god, you were right, there she is– hey, Mabel. Gotta give you credit girl, you got balls, showing your face here."

At that voice and those words, Mabel's tummy shrivels a little. She gulps, fixing her face into an expression that's as friendly as she's capable of– then turning around to find her personal space super invaded by her good ol' overbearing red-headed ex-friend Jenna, and one of Aiden's soccer teammates, fellow forward Jesse Spitz, who is pretty much renowned for his hot-headedness– watching some of Aiden's games this semester, Mabel remembers him getting carded nearly every single game for starting shiz with the other team.

Oh dear. These are very much Aiden's friends and not hers. Not anymore.

"Um, hi?" Are the only words that come to mind. Mabel shrinks back a bit without meaning to, holding her half filled cup close to her chest.

"Hiii," Jenna flashes a grossly saccharine smile and reaches to pluck the cup from Mabel's hands and set it on the table. "Enjoying yourself, hun?"

"Um… yeahhhss?" Mabel's eyes flick nervously back and forth between her two new close-quarters non-budz.

"Cool, cool. So, you finally gonna spill the reason why you publically dumped Aiden like a cold, heartless bitch?"

Oh fudge, oh fudge. Not this, not here, not now– it's hard for her not to just start with the silent tears on the spot. Touchy subject, an' all that. God, stay calm, stay cool, Mabel-girl.

"Okay, you know, I'm not… I-I'm not gonna talk about stuff that's none of your guys' business, so," Mabel mumbles, trying to both keep the tremble out of her voice and dodge her way around them, but Jesse–who is a super tall, super built, quite overbearing senior– steps in her way. She tries not to let her face crumble as she stares up at him, stunned. What the heck do they want her to say?

"Oh hell no. You dump our best friend for no goddamn reason and then have the nerve to show up to our other best friend's party? And you're gonna tell us it's none of our business?"

Mabel's heart races so hard she feels dizzy, and she hates the way she can feel herself shrinking back against the table, hates how small her voice is coming out, "Sarah Barnes told me I should come, she said it was fine…"

"I'm sorry, is Sarah's name Brittney? Obviously wasn't her call, Mabe-babe," Jenna sing-songs.

"Leave me alone, okay? I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Didn't do anything–" Jenna lets out the most incredulous scoff, "Wow! Wow. Why are you such a fucking bitch, Mabel? You're still trying to put on the whole innocent-girl act? You're still not gonna give anyone a reason why you kicked him to the curb like he was trash. Do you even have a reason? Did you just do it for kicks?"

Mabel's eyes well up– nope, no stoppin them tears now. "No, of course not! I-I–"

"Like, what, you think you're going to do better? Newsflash, honey! Aiden was way out of your league, you're just the loser weird girl he felt sorry for enough to date, for whatever reason… and we're not okay with you shitting all over our friend, so, let me put this into words you can understand– you're not fucking welcome to hang around us anymore! Since your dumb ass can't seem to pick up on that very obvious fact yourself."

Jesse takes a half step towards her. "How 'bout you get the fuck out of here, weird little bitch. Yeah?" Mabel's lip quivers, her eyes falling to her pink shoes, tears rolling down her cheeks despite how hard she's trying to hold them in her eyeballs, and honestly she would very much like to get the heck out of here at this point but they're still not letting her get by–

"Hey!" Mabel hears a familiar shout that somehow fills her heart with both relief and dread, and turns her head to see her brother standing in the doorway, his fists nearly shaking with rage, his eyes narrowed into slits. Jesse and Jenna's eyebrows raise and they give each other a knowing look as Dipper strides over, his expression seething. He inserts himself right up in the small space between them and Mabel–even though Jesse towers at least half a foot over Dipper– without a beat of hesitation, his eyes dark and glaring. "What the fuck is wrong with you, man? Back off!"

Jenna barks out a mocking laugh. "Oh my god, of course, here comes the twin brother to the rescue, as usual."

Dipper reaches back to grab Mabel's hand tightly, his voice quivering with thinly veiled anger as he starts to lead her away, "come on Mabel, we're leaving."

"Uh, 'scuse me, we weren't done talking." Jesse pulls harshly on the sleeve of Dipper's shirt, forcing the much shorter boy him to spin back around and face him. "Look, Pines, this doesn't involve you, alright? Why don't you go get a life or whatever, instead of following your bitch sister around twenty-four-seven?"

Dipper's brow crumples and his mouth opens but Jenna jumps in before he can utter a word, "Aw, is it because you're a fucking loser with no friends?"

Jesse's voice comes in right behind Jenna's, his voice patronizing and dripping with fake curiosity, his hand still gripping Dipper's shirt. "I mean you are kind of a freak, man. Do you like, wanna fuck her or something? Is that why you're always trailing at her heels like a fuckin' dog?" Dipper's eyes widen the slightest bit, and he looks like he's just been punched in the gut, and behind him Mabel's stomach drops so hard she feels like she could throw up. "Holy shit, look at his face, Jen, I bet he does! Haha, that is pretty sick, bro-"

Dipper's arms burst outwards like a spring, making hard contact with Jesse's chest, causing the significantly bigger teenager to stumble back a few steps. "Fuck you, dude."

Some "ooohs," are muttered from a few of the onlookers in the room. Jesse's face twists with rage. "Oh-ho, you did not just do that."

"Oh fuck–" Dipper only has time to shove Mabel off to the side as the twins take in that split second image of Jesse charging them–she almost stumbles to her knees, but rights herself at the last second and whips back around just in time to see Jesse's right fist make sickeningly harsh contact with Dipper's face, the nauseating sound of it making her feel as if her chest just took a blow as well.

No, no, no–

Dipper grunts out a short cry as he crashes back into the table and against the wall, drinks spilling everywhere. He's only down there a few seconds, quietly cursing in pain, before Jesse grabs the front of his shirt and effortlessly hauls him back to his feet, getting right up in his stunned face, "the fuck did you just say to me, Dipshit Pines? You wanna repeat that?"

Mabel bounds forwards, grabbing at Jesse's shoulder, "stop, leave him alone–!" But without even looking back at her Jesse pushes her away. She trips backward, bracing to fall on her butt, but someone catches her, helping her back to her feet, and then Aiden's voice is yelling out from right next to her ear, his hands coming away from her waist as he stomps past her–

"What the hell is going on, Jesse, what the fuck?! Put him down!"

Jesse doesn't oblige right away, rolling his eyes as he reluctantly turns to look at Aiden, while Dipper seems frozen in his grip, staring at Aiden through wide eyes even though his left one is already starting to swell. "Come on, he was trash talkin' you, man–"

"He was not!" Mabel is quick to counter, her voice borderline hysterical.

Jenna butts in with a disbelieving guffaw, "Okay, you should've heard the shit she was saying about you–"

Aiden puts his hands to his forehead, "Holy crap, I don't care who was trash talking who, just put him down! I fucking told you guys I didn't need you to defend me! Like oh my god, are you serious with this right now?" He gestures frantically to where Dipper's shirt is still stretched out from being held in two tight fists. Jesse sighs and utters a grumble that's nearly a growl, but finally lets go, taking a step back. Dipper takes a step back too, breathing hard, his back bumping against the trashed table of drinks. His shaky hands fumble to smooth out his shirt.

"Dude-" Jesse starts, but Aiden holds up a hand and shakes his head, glaring down at the floor.

"Just– no. Not now, man. Jesus Christ." Jesse and Jenna seem to be stricken into silence at Aiden's not-so-supportive reaction. Aiden grumbles in bewildered aggravation, turning back towards Mabel. "…You alright, Mabel?"

Finding that she's apparently been stricken into silence, too, Mabel just nods back at him, her eyes huge and watery. Aiden responds with a single, awkward nod of his own, an ashamed expression on his face. He looks around the room, finally noticing the considerable amount of onlookers, and lifts his hands in exasperation. "Okay, you can all stop staring now, it's over." As usual, Aiden Zimmerman just has a way of getting people to go along with him, because the crowd quickly disperses itself, half-whispered chatters starting to fill the room again along with the music.

Satisfied, Aiden pushes past Jenna and Jesse and walks right up to Dipper, whose gaze shifts to the side awkwardly before it lands back on Aiden. "Shit," Aiden says under his breath as he takes in the quickly forming bruise on Dipper's face, "Dipper, I'm really, really sorry about this."

Dipper shakes his head rapidly, his eyes dropping to the floor.

"Really," Aiden adds weakly, his shoulders slumped.

"It's– I–" Dipper's sentence doesn't get finished. He just shakes his head some more, sans eye contact.

Aiden sighs tiredly, putting a hand on Dipper's shoulder, apparently not noticing the way the shorter boy flinches at the contact. Mabel looks on from a few feet away, her heart whirring– it's gotten real hard to breathe all of a sudden. "Come on, I'll um, I'll get you some ice."

Aiden moves to start to lead Dipper away, and for one unnerving second Mabel expects her brother to dig his dingy old black-n-white Vans into the floor and refuse to follow– she nearly breathes a loud sigh of relief when Dipper goes along with it, his clothes wet and stained from falling into a table of drinks, his eyes still glued to the floor, a blank look on his pale face. Aiden walks the two of them past a still-silent Jenna and Jesse without a word. Mabel swallows hard and tries to blink away the tears in her eyes, stiffly following her ex-boyfriend and her brother to the kitchen.

"There," Aiden finishes wrapping a ziploc bag full of ice in a washcloth and hands it out to Dipper, who slowly reaches out to take it from where he leans against the fancy kitchen island. "Just um… hold that on there as long as you can, and hopefully it won't swell up too bad."

Dipper stops himself from voicing the snarky yeah, no shit, that reflexively forms in his head and silently does as he's told, lifting to press the ice against his throbbing eye and cheek. He winces at the contact. Goddammit… he is not going to enjoy explaining this probably-horrible bruise to his mom tomorrow. Especially when he and Mabel are supposed to be "at the drive in for the Saturday night double feature" right now. People can believably get socked at the drive in, right?

His thoughts are interrupted by another one of Aiden's dejected sighs. It's hard not to frown and roll his eyes. Oh my god, give it a rest already with the sighs, man. It wasn't your fault. Mostly.

"Guys, seriously, I'm…" Aiden rubs his eye, keeping to his spot near the sink as he addresses the twins who stand across from him. "I'm so sorry, about all of that. I hope you know that I… I mean I didn't put them up to that, or anything. They're both assholes."

"S'okay. We know," Mabel pipes up from her spot next to Dipper, who glances over at her, his head down. She furtively shoots her brother an expectant, pleading look. He says nothing. Then Dipper feels her elbowing him, just barely, so Aiden won't be able to see.

"Yeah it's whatever. It's fine," Dipper says in a monotone. That's the best he's got. Mabel's elbow digs into his side again, and Dipper groans inwardly. Ah, shit. He's gotta say it, doesn't he. Yeah, he does. "Um… thanks, Aiden. For um… yeah." Dipper gestures awkwardly at his ice-pack-covered eye.

"No, yeah, of course. Honestly, I'm sorry this happened at all."

Dipper nods slowly again, eyes back on the floor. He's pretty ashamed at how impossible it feels to look this guy in the eye, but god, it really is. He knows he should be entirely grateful that Aiden stepped in before he could be beaten to a pulp by some meathead idiot. And he is mostly grateful, but… man… of course, of course, it had to be perfect-looks, perfect-personality, probably-still-has-feelings-for-Mabel, has-done-things-with-Mabel, perfectly perfect Aiden to the rescue, like a second after Dipper had utterly bombed at coming to her rescue.

Dammit, why did it always have to be Aiden?

The talking has totally ceased, the sound of conversation from the few other people in the kitchen and the music coming from the next room the only things filling the stuffy air between the three teenagers. There's no missing the thick tension hovering around them.

Aiden is the one to break the maximum awkward silence, with another one of those damn sighs, and then–

"Um… Mabel?"

Mabel's head jerks up from where she's intently playing with her hands. Dipper's head jerks up too, suddenly on edge. Aiden swallows noticeably and continues. "Would it be okay if… if we talked for a second? Like, uh…" Aiden glances vaguely in Dipper's direction for a split-second, scratching the back of his stupid pointy blonde haircut uncomfortably, "…privately, I mean?"

What?! Dipper's hand tightens around the icepack, his bad eye stinging when it tries to widen along with his good one. Oh hell no. Not a chance, man.

"Oh, um–" Mabel drags her teeth over her bottom lip, her eyes flicking over to meet Dipper's–no no no, I'm not okay with that, he frantically attempts to communicate by raising his eyebrows pleadingly, just the tiniest smidge, hoping she'll pick up on his signal–nope, no dice. Mabel's eyes dash away from his and she looks back to meet Aiden's sky-blue ones, nodding, her voice high and awkward, "um yeah, sure… okay."

Dipper's mouth falls open a little in shock as he looks back and forth between his sister and her ex-boyfriend. What the hell… haha, oh-ho, thiiis isn't happening, right? He's pretty sure he's had nightmares that start exactly like this.

"Okay… cool," Aiden says, sounding nervous, but also relieved. He tilts his head down at the tiled kitchen floor before glancing back up at Mabel with a soft look that makes Dipper absolutely seethe. "Here, we can just…" he points to the doorway, "…yeah."

Mabel gives Dipper nothing but a drive-by apologetic look and a little shrug of her shoulders as she walks past him, following Aiden out of the kitchen. Dipper can only look on in complete disbelief, following them with his uncovered eye until they're out of sight, headed who-knows-where. When they've been gone for a full ten seconds, he rips the ice pack Aiden made for him off his face, tossing it angrily into the sink, feeling his bruise throb painfully. He slumps down to sit on one of the kitchen stools, back hunched, elbows resting on his knees, his heart dropping far, far down into his gut.

When five minutes pass and Mabel still hasn't reappeared, Dipper hops up from the stool and stomps out of the kitchen, choosing instead to wait by the front door of this ludicrously enormous house, his arms crossed tightly. It's the point in the night where people are starting to get sloppy drunk. Someone bumps against him and sloshes liquid on his arm, but Dipper doesn't even look up. Just keeps staring down at the carpet, barely blinking. There's a harsh, static buzzing in his ears, and it's not just because of the too-loud music.

Twenty-four minutes and some seconds pass before his sister's pink shoes finally appear in his line of vision. Twenty-four minutes. He'd checked his phone so many times that he'd timed her without meaning to.

"There you are… Dip?" He slowly looks up to Mabel's face, which looks flushed and timid. "Sorry, you weren't in the kitchen, I couldn't find you."

Dipper tries not to let his voice come out as cold as it wants to be. "Whatever. Can we just get out of here, please?"

Mabel's mouth opens tentatively, but then it snaps closed, and she nods instead. She looks so disappointed and sad, which tugs at his heartstrings… but to be honest, Dipper can't find any words of comfort in himself at the moment.

They make their way back to their old blue minivan in silence. The music of the party behind them becomes fainter and fainter the further away they get. The van beeps twice when Dipper unlocks it with the button on his keys, and he stalks around to the driver's side door, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his damp shorts, while Mabel shuffles her way over to the passenger's side. Both twins settle in their seats and their doors slam shut at the same time, and they buckle their seat belts, still deathly silent. The longer Mabel says nothing, the angrier Dipper can feel himself growing, and his fist trembles the slightest bit as he jams the key in the ignition and turns.

They're only three minutes into the drive home when Dipper cracks.

"So?"

Mabel spits out a lock of her hair, glancing over at him. "So…" Her head shakes once side to side in a perfectly confused manner that only serves to further piss him off.

Dipper clutches the steering wheel a little too hard as he straightens the van back out after a turn. His left cheek and eye throb painfully. "So, what were you… what'd Aiden need to talk to you about so badly?"

Mabel shrugs, leaning her head on her hand as she stares out the window. "He was just… double-checking that I was okay."

"Okay…" Dipper swallows, speaking slowly, "well, you were gone for a long time."

"Not really," is all Mabel says, now picking at a loose thread on her tights. She sounds pretty damn sober by this point, and weirdly quiet. A stark contrast to the giggly, hiccup-y version of herself that couldn't keep her hands off him earlier that same night. Dipper rips his eyes off the road to give her an incredulous, raised-eyebrows look, and Mabel shoots one right back at him. "What, Dipper? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"What'd he want?"

"He didn't want anything. We just talked for a little bit, that's all."

She's back to not looking at him, which makes Dipper an unexplainable amount of uneasy. He scowls, barely able to believe the way this conversation is going. "That's all you're gonna say?"

"Um, yeah?" Mabel retorts weakly, her shoulders shrugging. "It was nothing weird or anything. Please, I just, I really don't wanna talk about it." Dipper feels his eyes grow wider with disbelief at yet another non-answer. He ignores the pain that sweeps through the left side of his face at the action. She's… she's got to be kidding, right? Why is she being like this?

"Seriously? You're seriously not going to tell me anything about what you guys were talking about." If that sounded entitled, he doesn't give a fuck.

"Ugh, I dunno! There's not much to say. He was just making sure I was alright, mostly." Mabel shifts uncomfortably in her seat, and Dipper very much notices that. His heart races faster and faster, his shoulders growing more and more tense. "But I mean… well, yeah, he's still sorta lookin' for answers I can't give him, so we were talking a little about that, and I guess I can't really blame him, you know?"

Annnd there it is. Images of his worst fears, the ones that wouldn't leave him alone no matter what he did the entire time she was gone, start to creep back into his head. Dipper sort of feels like he could yell, but snorts out a harsh, cynical sound instead. "Oh yeah, poor, poooor Aiden."

Mabel's face wilts further. "Hey now, he saved both our butts today in case you already forgot! Aiden's a good person! Quit treating him like he's your mortal enemy or whatever, I mean, jeez!" Dipper glares daggers at the road ahead, loathing her words and fighting against the nagging inkling of truth to them with every fiber of his being. He's in too deep, man. Mabel turns to look out the window, resting her forehead against the glass. "And… a-and he's still hurting, okay? And I still feel horrible about that, and… I mean, you of all people should know what that's like, so just— just lay off the guy already, will ya?"

Dipper feels something in his chest constrict dangerously. "Yeah, Mabel, you're right! I do fucking know what that's like! So you'll forgive me if I'm not very supportive of you ditching me to go off and have long-ass intimate conversations and whatnot with your ex!"

Mabel's head jerks to look at him fiercely over her shoulder. "And whatnot? Whuh'do you mean and whatnot, what in the heck's that supposed to mean?"

A voice at the very back of his brain begs, screams for him not to say it, but Mabel has been acting weird and avoiding his eyes for too long and he's a ridiculous amount of angry and scared right now for reasons too stupid and embarrassing to admit, so the faraway voice gets ignored. "I don't know, you tell me! How 'bout you stop blatantly dancing around the subject and just fucking tell me, Mabel!"

"Oh my god, Dipper are you serious right now!" Mabel spins fully in her seat to stare him down with wild eyes and throw her hands in the air, her voice severely tight. "Nothing happened! We talked for like, ten minutes! I didn't tell him jack, obviously! And I certainly didn't friggin' cheat on you, if that's what you're implying, you… you jerk!" Tears fill her voice and Dipper's heart drops into his butt and god, he doesn't expect her to keep yelling, but she does. "I'm with you, okay, you have me! Congratu-friggin-lations! Ya got the girl! S-so you can stop being a huge ass a-anytime now!"

Mabel abruptly turns back around in her seat to press her forehead against the passenger side window and hide behind her hair, her shoulders trembling. Dipper swallows so hard that his throat hurts. She's never cursed at him before, is all he can think for some reason. His heart beats fast and high in his chest, a deep frown cutting through his face as he frantically tries to think of something to say to that, something that will justify the quickly dwindling anger and irrational amount of hurt he's still feeling. But he comes up empty. Even though some soft indie-rock song plays on the radio, the van seems to stew in a choking silence anyway.

Staring down the road in front of him, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel, Dipper hears Mabel sniff loudly. His silent breathing picks up speed as he slows to a stop at a red light, listening to his sister sniffle and cry as quietly as she can. He knows he just fucked up badly… that's starting to really sink in, now. He knows this is his cue to say something. But it sort of feels like he's having an out of body experience at the moment. There's a lump in his throat and Dipper really doesn't trust his voice (or his thoughts, for that matter) right now.

So the rest of the drive home is silent.

Later that night, Dipper lays in bed above the covers on his back, his phone clutched in between his sweaty hands. His hair is still damp against his pillow; the sticky drink mess all over his clothes and skin forced him to make a beeline to the bathroom for a shower when they got home. He hasn't seen Mabel since then either, who marched silently up to her room a few steps ahead of him and shut the door behind her. He caught the click of her lock right after that.

He erases another overly long apology text, his thumb spazzing over the delete button. It didn't feel right, just like none of the others did. The anger has worn down enough for the crippling amounts of guilt to set in. Her words have sunk down under his skin, making it hard to lay still. His heart palpitates painfully, and the lame over-dramatic romantic in him wants to say that it hurts worse than the throbbing from the bruise near his eye. The image of Mabel's shoulders shaking as she curled herself against the passenger side door, away from him, is branded on the backs of his eyelids, the sound of her miserable sniffs and escaped whimpers on repeat in his ears.

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

He wants to tell her how sorry he is to her face, but he knows that if he were to tiptoe down the hall and quietly knock on her door right now, it wouldn't open for him. This is the biggest fight they've had in a long time, even since before they were a couple (well… not counting that whole miserable-silent-awkward era that took over their lives for weeks, right up until they got together). Dipper sighs, willing himself to calm down. Yet another new message gets tapped out. He makes an effort to keep it simple this time. Wetting his dry lips, he jams his thumb down on the send button.

D: Mabel, you awake?

D: I'm sorry, Mabes

D: I'm so, so sorry for what I said

D: I'd really like to come over and talk, if that's okay?

Dipper stares at the screen for a few minutes, waiting. His phone eventually goes dark. He takes a deep breath, laying back into his pillow, his hand and phone resting on his belly. Fifteen more minutes of nothing pass before he breaks down and jerks up into sitting position. Rolling out of bed, he tiptoes over and cracks his door open. For what feels like the hundredth time that night, he peeks out into the upstairs hallway to see if there was still light shining out from under his sister's bedroom door… there is. Dipper pulls his door closed again, his shoulders sagging. He pads his way back over to his bed, the mattress creaking loudly as he plops himself down on the edge of it. His phone gets swiped back open.

D: Mabes?

D: I know you're awake… your light's still on

D: Please just hear me out?

D: I'm really, really sorry

D: I was an idiot

Dipper's heart leaps and he breathes a small noise of relief when finally, finally those three text-in-progress dots appear.

M: Yah, ya were :\

D: the biggest, dumbest idiot ever.

D: Is it okay if I come over? I really want to do this in person

M: well i dont super wanna see u right now, so

M: too bad

D: I guess I deserve that.

D: I mean, I know I do

M: i dont wanna talk to u rn either so quit texting me and go to bed. goodnight

D: Mabel please, I'm so sorry

D: please don't shut me out, I just want to fix this

She doesn't respond. The minutes tick by… five, ten, twenty minutes. As more and more time passes Dipper starts to feel increasingly sick to his stomach. Mabel has never blatantly ignored him or shot down his sincere apologies like this before. Like… what is he supposed to do now, to make things right? What's the protocol here? His mind whirs faster and faster, at a loss. He's got zero past girlfriend fight examples to fall back on for help, due to the fact that he's never had a lasting-longer-than-a-week girlfriend before this, and there's also that game-changing fact that his first girlfriend turned out to be… well, his sister.

Fuck. There is no protocol for this, is there. And Mabel doesn't seem to even want to fix this. She seems so done with him.

Oh god… what did he do? What could she be thinking right now?

When his panicking dick of a brain responds to that question with the worst possible answers, his eyes start to prickle, and Dipper starts to get truly desperate. His numb fingers break every texting etiquette rule there is, piling on message after message the longer Mabel stays silent.

D: please

D: I just wanna come tell you that I'm sorry in person

D: Mabel

D: I am so, so sorry. I know I'm an asshole and a jealous idiot, you didn't deserve any of it

D: please say something

D: Please tell me I didn't fuck up so badly that we can't fix it, can you at least tell me that?

D: ?

D: You're not saying anything?

D: Mabel, please

D: I love you so much, please give me another chance

Dipper stares down his phone, the tiny glowing screen the only thing in the room shining light on the nervous wreck he's become. He knows he's probably coming off pathetic but he doesn't really care at this point, if she breaks it off it's not gonna matter anyway– oh shit, she's finally writing back–

M: ghhhhhhhh omg dipper. im not about to break up w/ u so calm urself

M: im just mad at you cos u were acting like a huge piece of doodoo earlier! we re just havin our first fight man? like im allowed to be mad u?

M: im allowed to want space and not wanna talk 2 u for a little bit and i should be able to do that without getting 80 majillion freak out texts in a row?

M: like u rlly think i'd dump u over something like this? what the heck

D: No… I didn't mean to sound like I was accusing you

D: god I'm fucking this up reall y badly I know that… please can we just talk this out :(

M: uughhhhhhasfdafdfhja -_-

M: fine

M: u can come talk. get your sweaty butt over here

The second he receives her message the phone drops from his hands, and Dipper peels out of bed and down the hall as silently as he can, coming to an abrupt stop in front of Mabel's door. He hesitates there for a few seconds, his fingers twitching just out of reach of the doorknob. He gives the door to his parents' darkened bedroom at the opposite end of the hallway one last nervous glance before he forces himself to grab onto the knob and turn, edging the door open just far enough to poke his head in.

His twin sits cross-legged on the edge of her stuffed-animal-covered bed, wearing the giant t-shirt that's her current favorite to use as pajamas, swaddled in her pig blanket… avoiding his eyes. Her face looks very drained. She looks towards the window and motions halfheartedly for Dipper to come in. He obeys, closing and re-locking the door behind him, shuffling over to sit next to her. Close, but not too close. He isn't out to push his luck, here.

There's a semi-awkward silence before Mabel shrugs in her blanket cocoon, peering over at him with a hello-any-day-now face. "Okay… I'm hearing you out, so go ahead."

Dipper exhales heavily and looks over at her, his eyes brimming with fear and regret. "I'm so, so sorry, Mabes. For how I handled myself, for– for everything I said, for… um, pushing you earlier, too… that wasn't… that was really shitty of me." His ears promptly turn red, "You were right, I was being an insecure asshole about…" he winces and drops his eyes to his lap, rubbing the back of his neck, "your ex and, a-and… about us…"

"Yeah. No shiz," Mabel lets her blanket fall away, folding her arms and glaring at her striped socked feet.

Her tone makes Dipper's chest ache with dread. She's still so clearly pissed at him… he forces himself to push forward. "I had no right to accuse you of anything, none, and… I mean I knew nothing happened, like, I-I knew that, I just–" he shakes his head, wondering how the hell he's going to put this. "Sometimes I… I get so freaked out and– so fucking bogged down under my own stupid thought spirals and then, suddenly all these old insecurities will dredge themselves up and… I end up doing irrational shit like– like yelling at my girlfriend when she didn't do anything, ugh, god…" He digs his fingers into his eyes, groaning with humiliation as his brain perfectly recalls what he yelled to her in the car. "I'm sorry," he finishes pitifully.

Mabel's frown eases up, but only a little bit. She speaks carefully, staring exclusively at the carpet a few feet in front of her. "Dipper… like, you realize how your massive amount of insecurities comes across to me, right?"

"I know," he croaks, hanging his head.

"Do you? Well bro, I'm gonna tell you anyway. 'Cuz this isn't the first time this sorta thing has happened." Mabel concentrates hard on keeping her voice steady even though it wants to shake and crack, her fingers playing with the ends of her hair. "It feels like you don't trust me." At that she can see Dipper flinch in her peripherals, but Mabel keeps going. "Like deep down, you don't think I believe in this relationship as much as you do, or something. Like you think I'm gonna throw in the towel first chance I get. Or cheat on you, a-apparently." Her face scrunches up a little, her eyes growing moist. "Do you know how crappy that makes me feel?"

"I know," Dipper whispers, wilting further to rest his forehead in his hands. "You're right, I'm so sorry, please forgive me."

She whines at how defeated he looks, hunched over with his head in his hands, and lets her head flop back towards the ceiling in exasperation. "See, you're doin' it even now, you look and talk like you're expecting me to dump you flat any second!" Mabel sighs. After a few seconds of silent indecision, she tiredly scoots closer to her brother on the bed, finally having mercy by putting her arm around his shoulders. "Jeez, Dipper, like I… I am not gonna do that, okay? I mean…" a helpless noise croaks from her throat, "legit question here, bro… what the heck can I do to convince you once and for all that I want this just as much as you do? That I'm not goin' anywhere? 'Cuz… I guess nothing's worked so far."

He looks over at her in surprise, his reddened eyes wide and scared, clearly caught off guard by the question. "I, I don't…"

"–Because if you can't even trust me when I tell you that I love you, then I… I'm not sure what we're even…." She trails off, biting her lip hard and looking away from him. Dipper jolts up straight and shakes his head frantically at where she seems to be going with this, grabbing her hand in his.

"No! No, Mabel, I do trust you. I trust you more than anyone in the world, it's just, I, I g…" His large brown eyes dart to their joined hands, his mouth twitching half open and closed as he searches for the right words. He looks so lost, it breaks her heart. "I don't know, I… some days all of this still feels way too good to be real. Like… I'm gonna wake up any second and lose it all again, I don't know. God, it… it makes me crazy. And stupid." He licks his dry lips, still staring down at their hands. "I spent a while thinking I'd lost you for good and just kinda wallowing around in those feelings and… a-and old habits die hard, I guess? But none of those fears are on you, Mabes. I'm just… an idiot. I-I know, I know I've got way too many insecurities about your ex and about you and I guess, about myself, too …" he sighs, "I didn't realize until today that they were affecting you that badly. I'm so, so sorry that I hurt you. And I'm gonna work on fixing myself, okay? I promise."

Mabel squeezes his hand. "Dip," she whines sadly. Now's she's the one at a loss for words, her heart going out to her brother… he sure does deal with a lot of jank that likes to jankity-jank up his head, like, twenty-four-seven.

"I really am, Mabel. I swear, I'm gonna chill the fuck out. I'll… I'll keep myself in check. Somehow. Just… try and be more aware of the irrational shit feelings when they pop up so they don't… you know. Get taken out on you."

"Is that even something that's… I dunno, doable?" The question comes out before she can stop it, her voice sounding entirely unsure.

"Yeah… yeah, it is. Damn, if it's not, I'll make it doable." Dipper's voice is low, gravelly and sincere. He brings their joined hands up to his mouth and gently kisses her knuckles. The depth of the love shining in his eyes, even with a big purple-y bruise around one of them, feels like it's socking her right in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her, throwing her all off-kilter. Just like it did the first time he looked at her like this. "I'd do anything for you, Mabel."

Oh…

Oof. Dipper looking at her like that and saying things like that sends a rush through her whole body, makes her mouth dry up and her cheeks go aflame. Mabel can feel herself letting go of her formerly tight grip on the problems they might have, how mad at him she's supposed to be. Man… Dipper is always willing to do so much for her. He always has been, long before the romance-y stuff started. So many times has he dropped everything for her, taken all the blame for her, and now, he wants to straight up change the way his brain thinks thoughts for her?

Her former anger floats away, and guilt starts to trickle into her heart, replacing it.

Aw, crud… today was hard, and looking back on it, she didn't exactly make it any easier. The least she can do is meet him halfway.

Mabel reaches out to cup her brother's scratchy jaw in her hands, and he immediately leans into the touch.

"Oh, Dip… dangit, I don't want you to have to feel gross or insecure about anything at all, ever," Mabel whispers, letting her thumb brush over his bottom lip. "You're not crazy, or stupid. The whole closet sitch, I mean… I should've stopped when you asked me to stop. That was a super uncool thing to do…" she sighs, squeezing her eyes closed for a second, "and I'm sorry about leaving you and goin' off with Aiden, and then being all vague in the car, and I'm sorry it took me this long to say sorry… I was still all caught up in the bad-janky feels from the– the stuff Jenna and Jesse said, and… I wasn't thinking about how much any of it might be affecting you. Ugh, dang it, that… that was really lame of me. You really had my back earlier, I never thanked you for that and I–" she shakes her head sadly, "yikes, I could've done a lot better today, too, Dipper."

Dipper's face goes all concerned-brother and he tries to cut in, "Mabel, none of the shit those jerks said is–"

"No I know, I know it's not," Mabel shushes him gently, leaning her forehead against his. "I don't really wanna talk about that dumbness right now. I'm just tryna say that– that we could both be doing better at the boyfriend-girlfriend thing, I guess. But, like, being better isn't an ultimatum or anything, ya dig? We'll… we'll help each other get better at this. Cuz' this is so super worth it." She strokes his cheeks with her thumbs. Dipper's mouth curves into a tiny, grateful smile.

"Yeah, agreed," he whispers earnestly. Mabel smiles back at him.

"So… you don't have to worry about kickin' the bad cray-cray thoughts all by yourself, 'kay? I love you, dork. I can tell you that as many times as you need me to." Dipper's breath hitches. His eyes, shimmering with appreciation and relief, finally drift closed and he leans forward to try and close the gap between them, but Mabel pulls back an inch before he can kiss her. His eyes blink back open, searching hers a little worriedly. Her pointer finger taps the very tip his nose. "Also. Just so you're aware, I am still a lil' bit peeved at you," she adds, juuust to keep him on his toes, "but you betta' believe I am gonna make out with you anyway."

He starts to say something in response but the words are muffled by Mabel darting forward and squashing her lips against his. Whatever he had to say must not've been that important as Dipper instantly pours himself into the kiss, his head tilting and his arms coming around her, riling up a swarm of butterflies in her gut. He's always so quick to respond to her, this time being no different.

Mabel grips hard on the collar of Dipper's nerdy Pi tee that he bought on a class trip to the Exploratorium, laying back into her bed and pulling him down on top of her without breaking their kiss. Dipper hustles to brace his arms on either side of her head so he doesn't smush her, adjusting his position so he's hovering over her on his knees and elbows. Mabel wraps her arms around his torso, dragging her nails up and down the length of his back. A shiver overtakes him, and he deepens the kiss with a rasping groan. The wet, breathy noise Dipper makes when he thrusts his tongue into her mouth makes her blood pump faster, the warm tingling between her legs quickly progressing to throbbing.

Ohh, jeez, yeah, she wants… she needs to feel him, really really badly, uhm, right now. Mabel hurriedly slides her hands down to his butt, pressing him with her palms and coaxing his body down until their hips are flush together. Warmth explodes inside her as she gets exactly what she wants, feeling him twitch and harden where he's sandwiched between them. Guh, it feels good. It's just so dang good to be with him right now, like this, quiet and alone together and free to get all wrapped up in each other after all the earlier horribleness of the day.

"Dipperrr," Mabel moans softly when she pulls away from his lips for a quick second, perfectly aware of how needy she sounds. Dipper seems to be aware of it too, since he quickly grows as hard as he's ever gonna get against her tummy. He ends their liplock with a little smack, pulling back to look down at her with cloudy eyes, so heart-poundingly full of longing. The eye contact causes her to breathe out another whine, and she presses up to rub herself against him, her eyes turning pleading. "Diiip, pleeease," she murmurs, her brows arched into a helpless look.

Dipper shudders hard, whispering out a jittery "fuck," his breath coming out choppy and his cheeks growing much pinker. His eyelids flicker but he doesn't look away. One corner of his mouth tugs up into what she recognizes as his signature 'don't worry, I've got you' face, which only makes her whine for him again.

Dipper lifts his hips away from hers and sits up before Mabel can protest, just enough to take her wrists from around his back and pin them back down to her pink and green bedspread. Wuh-woah. The itty-bitty display of dominance knocks the air from Mabel's lungs, stupefying her; um, she is very much into Dominant-Dip (although D-D doesn't yet make regular appearances during bed-activities, so she's gotta live it up when he does). Dipper bends to kiss her, and oh boy, it is some kiss indeed. His lips move with that super-fired-up passion that's sort of hard to keep pace with, but she is lovin' it anyway, her body squirming happily beneath his.

He tears his mouth from hers with a gasp, gazing down at her again through his long lashes and rich, dark brown eyes. Shoooot, for some reason the bruise on his face is really upping Dipper's rugged-hotness factor right now, what the heck, bruise. Mabel's heart thumps loudly in her ears, wrists still pinned on either side of her head. She's still not sure where this supes-intense make out is headed, but man is she eager to find out. The heated, (ridiculously) sexually-charged pause comes to a sudden end, and Dipper's lips are back on the move, landing on her cheek, her jaw, her earlobe, wasting no time.

"Mm, fuck, I love you," she hears him breathe as he hurriedly kisses down her neck, "I love you so much." Mabel responds to his whispered declaration with a breathy, frantic sound as Dipper brushes his lips along her collarbone, blazes a trail of kisses down her chest and breasts and belly, pushing up her oversized shirt in the process, nuzzling and caressing her skin with his hands and mouth all the way down. Holy wow, he is a dude on a mission, barely stopping to breathe, it feels like. He moves lower and lower until he's all the way between her legs, and Mabel is now very aware of where this is going, her body throbbing and twitchy with anticipation. He drags his lips away from her inner thigh to sit up suddenly and hook his restless fingers into the elastic band of her polka-dotted panties.

Dip pauses to meet her eyes and raises his eyebrows slightly, breathing hard, still in the habit of needing her permission for everything. Mabel bites her lip and nods, her gaze jumping from the open desire on his face to the tent in his boxers and back again before she lays back into the bed and lifts her hips, allowing her brother to easily drag her underwear down her legs. She feels his hands, warm and gentle, push her legs apart a bit further. Mabel's eyebrows furrow over her closed eyes and she whines softly, quite embarrassingly aware of how wet she's become in such a short period of time. She hears the bed creak as Dipper gingerly moves to lay on his stomach. Only seconds pass before she feels hot, ragged breathing hitting her, just centimeters away– her hips jerk a little at the sensation. A soft, open mouthed kiss gets pressed against her labia, just enough pressure to elicit a tiny gasp. After a few more slow, longing kisses she hears him moan under his breath before his whole tongue darts out to lick her up and down with long, bold stripes, his arms curling possessively around her thighs. She can feel the faint prickle of his facial hair pressing into her as he pulls her closer to his face.

Dear sah-weet Jaysus. Mabel's breathing quickly becomes labored, the sound of it joining the nonstop wet-eating noises in filling the silence of her bedroom. Her toes clench. Blearily, she opens her eyes and lifts her head a bit to see Dipper's adorable brown mop of hair down between her legs, his eyes closed, his face crimson, his nose shamelessly smooshed against her down-there-hair and his jaw and mouth moving on her with unabashed passion–

Oh, holy shiiiii… the sight makes her stomach flip, her body tingling all over. His tongue slithers up to gently circle and caress her clit without pressing too hard on it directly (oh joyous day he's only done this two other times but he's learned, he's learned), and that gets Mabel to snatch up her little pig pillow and mush it down over her face so she can safely let out the long, squeaky whimper she cannot hold in anymore. The decorative pillow falls off to the side as her head rolls back, one of her hands moving down to rake lovingly through his thick curls. The sighs and high-pitched noises start to pour out of her, some words too, because jeez, the way he's goin' at her like he's friggin' starving or something, barely even coming up for air, makin' those muffled, breathy sounds that vibrate into her very core, his arms tugging her closer, closer… g-god, he's so… he's so….

"Mmmh, ohgod, Dipper!"

As she whisper-wails his name as quietly as she possibly can, her hands jump from his hair to where his hands stroke along her thighs, gripping onto his fingers. He sighs against her slickened skin– a faraway, dreamy sound–and sweetly adjusts their grip to hold her hands properly, weaving his fingers between hers and holding tight. He pulls back an inch to gasp in a breath or two before he ducks back down and switches techniques, now tending exclusively to her clit, his lips and tongue picking up speed. Mabel bites back another loud moan. She squirms on the bed, tossing her head to the side and squeezing her eyes shut, her legs starting to tremble. Her hips start moving without her meaning to, because even though he's only been at this a few minutes she's already so close and getting super antsy. She realizes she likes this better, her moving on him, and doesn't stop. She finds an angle that turns her body to shuddering jelly-goo, her hands wriggling out of his and flying back into his hair to both hold him in position and steady herself as she bucks her hips. Dipper catches on fast, dutifully keeping his head as still as he can while his tongue stays moving with quick, precise little strokes.

"Hahhh – right there right there ohgodpleasepleaseplease–"

Her head tosses again, the tension in her body stacking to maddening levels. When she scoots herself down to desperately rub herself more fully against his face, Dipper lets out a gruff moan, his hands drifting up to cup her breasts. The tingly jolt she gets from him squeezing her causes a pleasured giggle to bubble out of her, and Mabel cracks open her eyes to gaze down at her bro for the first time in a while. Her mouth falls wide open in a silent moan a second later, her face scrunching up, because woah-there-wowee, Dipper looks so… gone. His eyes closed contentedly, eyebrows knitted together in a way that makes him look blissfully desperate, the color of his face gone full-tomato. His forehead is so sweaty that his bangs are damp, but not as damp as, well, the entire bottom half of his face, she can see from the way it glistens from the tip of his pink nose on down– Ooohwhee-dawgy, talk about dedication– like the other two times were real good but they were not like this…

She can feel the tingling heat of pressure on the verge of cresting as she rolls her hips faster, shamelessly continuing to watch her brother through glazed-over eyes. Ohh gosh, the sight of him allowing her to grind so mercilessly against his beet red face, and, and the thought of him getting that much pleasure from being practically smothered via Mabel-crotch, the feel of his fluttering tongue that has to be getting pretty dang tired by now–

"Dipper," Mabel gasps, fighting hard to keep quiet. Her hips firmly roll up against his mouth one last time before she feels her walls suddenly start to clench and unclench, so many times that her spasming body attempts to curl in on itself, her eyes squeezing shut, her legs snapping closed, her hands constricting into fists full of his hair. She stutters out a hushed cry, willing herself to relax the vice grip on her brother's head as soon as she's physically capable. Once her limbs unlock she goes limp, thighs still twitching here and there from tiny aftershocks that make her shiver.

There's a loud buzzing in her ears as she gradually floats back to herself. Mabel's eyes open halfway and she's greeted with the spine-tingling image of Dipper still nuzzled down in the crevice of her thighs, his shoulders heaving as he gets used to taking in a normal amount of air again. His heavy breaths wash over her sensitive skin, pink tongue poking just barely out of his mouth to give her soft, doting licks, like a lil' kitten at a milk bowl. Man, aside from that one jerk and tiny grunt-yelp from her sudden yank on his hair, Dipper has totally stayed put through the impromptu headlock, even with that colorful bruise on his face… what a flippin' champ.

His eyes peel open, dark brown irises and dilated pupils flitting up to lock onto hers. Mabel gives him a lazy grin, her lips parted as she tries to catch her breath. Dipper beams back at her, his eyes half-lidded. He leans in to press one last sweet kiss to her clit before he moves to rest his cheek against her parted leg, totally indifferent to the way his drenched face smears on her skin. After a moment he decides to press a small peck to her cushy inner thigh, too. Her cheeks warm as she observes the tender gesture. His hands reach out to grasp her slack ones where they lay on the bed; his are warm and a little sweaty, just the way she likes them.

Mabel jokingly lifts an eyebrow at him, her voice coming out spent and croaky. "W-what, you think a little… dedicated kitty-cat-nommin' is gonna get you the rest of the way out of the doghouse, mister?"

"No," Dipper laughs breathily, halfway hiding his face against her leg and peeking at her sheepishly. "That was just 'cuz I wanted to."

"Mmhm, sure…" she fixes on him with a mock-suspicious look, "I'm onto you, man."

"I mean, I did figure it couldn't hurt," he admits with a shrug and a grin, before the grin fades a little and his eyes soften, "but I know I got a little ways to go, earning your forgiveness wise."

She wriggles one of her hands free to wave it around in a pretend blessing of his forehead, utilizing her wise-old-friar voice. "Oh you are fah, fahhh along the blessed path to forgiveness, my child."

He kisses her thigh again. "That's all I ask."

She reaches her arms out to him with grabby hands. "Weh. Come cuddle me, already."

Dipper smiles, wiping his face on his sleeve as he hauls himself up to her side, while Mabel pushes her shirt back down and makes a spot for him, and they tangle themselves up in each other's grasps, facing each other on their sides. She reaches up to gently run her fingers over the purpling bruise between his left eye and cheek, pursing her lips to one side, trying not to betray the prick of sadness the sight of it gives her.

"Hm… maybe we can tell Mom and Dad you got into a brawl with a dude at the drive-in who was … trying to steal my Junior Mints. Yeah. Just your classic Dips, heroically defending my snack honor. To the death. Totally believable!"

"Right, that is just so classic me," Dipper says with a little snort and eye roll.

Mabel lets her fingers trickle down his cheek, her face softening. "Hey, but seriously Dipper… thanks for being there earlier, when I needed you. I can't remember if I told you that yet." Dipper gives her a tender look, quirking his lips into a half-smile that tells her there's no need to say anything more than that, if she doesn't want to. Mabel runs her thumb over the soft, still-damp hair on his chin, before taking his whole chin between her thumb and forefinger and barely turning his head side to side. "You're the bestest brother-bee-eff. For reals. All the awards go to you." He shakes with a few silent laughs, bats her hand away from his face, then reaches to affectionately tuck her flyaways behind her ear. Mabel sighs, bursting at the seams with love and appreciation for her sibling, snuggling closer to him. "…Is it hurting you lots, though?"

"Nah, it's not too bad… better now," Dipper says softly, craning his neck a smidge to press a kiss to her forehead. "Thanks for letting me come over, Mabes."

"Hey, I sure am dang glad I did. I mean, definitely for the making-up and the meaningful relationship progression, thaz good stuff, but also, dude. That second part, whoo-whee-whew," she fans herself and bats her eyelashes at him, making Dipper giggle, "That's all I got to say about that."

"Yeah, I could kinda tell you were uh… diggin' it." Dipper puts on a flagrant display of the dorkiest of eyebrow wiggles, so stupidly dorky-'n-cute that Mabel has to snort and push on his shoulder. "Man," Dipper continues, "I gotta say though, I…" he squints off into space and grins ear to ear, "really, really like giving you head."

Mabel can feel the heat blooming in her cheeks as she giggles and closes her eyes. "Yeah, well. You won't ever catch me complaining about that one." She yawns, finally deciding to address the subject of what's pressed up against her thigh and twitches practically every time she moves in the slightest bit.

"Sooo were you just not gonna say anything about this? Hmm?" She rubs pointedly against him with her leg, smiling as she watches his eyes drift closed in bliss. She stops, and they flutter right back open. Dipper gives her a guilty grin.

"Um… no?" He shrugs. "I mean if you're tired, no worries."

"Awww. You're supes-sweet. But I'm not gonna leave you hanging, bro."

"You're not?" He asks playfully, although she can hear that sweet, quiet hopefulness in his voice, see it on his face, too. It's the stuff that makes her want to do this for him even though she is pretty exhausted.

"Mm-mm, nope. Eh, not today, at least," Mabel laughs, tapping his nose twice, "buh-boop."

Dipper gives her a smile that flashes half his teeth. "Heyy, I'll take it."

With both of them giggling softly, she scoots to make a bit of space between their hips, letting her hand drift in loop-de-loops down the front of his shirt until she's impishly walking her fingers down the length of him through his underwear. Dipper hums out a pleasured, grateful sound, relaxing fully against her and her pink cat-face pillow.

Mabel props herself up on one elbow to lightly, just barely brush her lips over his bruise, then press a firmer kiss to his temple, then lean over his ear and murmur, "by the by, broski, it might not be happening tonight, buuut I'm definitely planning on finishing what I started in that closet. Definitely, duh-definitely. Ruh-real soon-like. Ya dig, bro-friend?" Dipper, whose eyes are closed, breathes out hard at the words before shuddering out another small giggle, happily nodding his head.

Entirely satisfied with his reaction, with her teeth digging into her bottom lip as she bites back a bit of her crazy-huge smile, Mabel proceeds to guide him out of the slit in his boxers and swiftly turn her brother to jelly in her arms.


	8. Breaking Point (Final in DB AU Sorta)

breaking point

uhh backstory time! so this takes place in the mabel's dream boy universe and is a dipper POV interlude that takes place at some point during limbo. so if you find yourself wondering what the hell is going on just read those other ones

aaand it's an angsty wankin fic. awarded the label of NSFW due to sir wanksalot. do not read if you're not up for an angsty wank

yeah this one's pretty angsty hahahaaaaa/

He finds them cleaning up his room one day, kicked up amongst the junk under his bed.

Cleaning of any kind isn't the usual sort of activity Dipper Pines spends his precious free time doing. But earlier that afternoon his mom had finally put her foot down, shoved a laundry basket into his hands, and told him he was not to show his face until that basket was full of the dirty clothes strewn all over his room. Not the first time he's received this particular ultimatum from his mother, and Dipper still isn't on board with the logic behind being forced to clean his room. It's not like anyone has to live in here but him. And he _happens_ to feel at home in his messy living space, thank-you-very-much.

Grumbling, he picks up the obvious stuff that sits out in the open first—handfuls of flannel and questionably-smelling t-shirts and jeans that have long passed their bi-weekly date with the washing machine, socks that are all somehow missing their counterparts, underwear he'd forgotten he even owned. The annoyance dies down when he ends up finding some good stuff he hasn't seen in a while, like his _Fargo_ shirt, or his favorite green pullover that he thought he'd lost a long time ago. That's what breaks Dipper down enough to be at least _willing_ to take look at the enigmatic chaos that is the area underneath his bed. Eh. He's already stuck cleaning. Might as well be thorough and possibly recover more of his long lost clothing.

He kneels down, stooping to lift up the blue comforter hanging in the way and peek disinterestedly into the dark depths beyond. His eyebrows raise when a glimpse of glaring pink jumps out at him from the rest of the dingy under-the-bed mess. Batting aside a rubik's cube, a dirty sneaker, and a worn paperback copy of _Cosmos_ , he reveals the item in question—man, it's really stuffed in there good, a few inches of pink whatever-it-is peeking out from in between the box that contains his coin collection (which includes that ancient pewter one from Gravity Falls that he's ninety-nine-percent sure is still extremely cursed) and a stack of old newspapers that all share the same August 2012 issue date (ongoing investigation, details are need-to-know). It doesn't really occur to him what exactly he's found until he closes his hand around it, pulling it out to take a closer look. A split second later it gets dropped to the floor and Dipper is on his feet again, his mouth going dry as he stares down at his discovery.

It's a pair of panties. And they're Mabel's.

The very same ones he watched her take off hurriedly, in his bed, with him, right before they…

He blinks. As much as he hates to admit it, every single detail of that night has pretty much been burned into his brain, so there's no mistaking this. That is definitely Mabel's underwear. Right there at his feet. Staring up at him in all its gaudy pink-hearted glory.

Dipper swallows, hard.

She must have accidentally left them while trying to sneak out of his room the morning after. And then forgotten about them. And now, almost three weeks later, here they are.

His mouth purses into a tight, thin line. Dipper's knee-jerk reaction is to turn sharply towards the laundry basket full of his dirty clothes. A plan, a good, rational sort of plan that he's proud of himself for coming up with forms in his head. He could just throw them in the hamper now (making sure to put them with Mabel's laundry and _not_ his), and no one would be the wiser that he'd had a pair of his sister's dirty underwear under his bed for the last few weeks. Yes. That would be the smart thing to do. The right thing to do. And it would certainly coincide nicely with his other current and much more pressing plans. The get-over-your-sister-or-else ones.

The teenaged boy stands there frozen for a few more seconds, before the usual amount of paranoia sets in and Dipper instinctively glances over his shoulder at his bedroom door. It's closed. Quickly he mentally pages through the current locations of each one of his family members. Mom, out picking up dinner, Dad, halfway through mowing the lawn. Mabel… still over at her boyfriend's.

He looks back down at the pink underwear on the carpet. Somehow his mouth becomes even drier, so dry that when he opens his mouth to take in a shallow breath, there's a mildly uncomfortable, weird unsticking sensation in his lips.

With only _slightly_ trembling hands, Dipper bends to pick up the soft, delicate garment. Last time he saw these, he was too distracted by what was underneath them to pay much attention to the panties themselves. Stretching them out a little between his hands, he studies them silently, his heart pounding. They're bright, bright pink, dotted all over with pink hearts that are a darker, richer shade of pink, and coated with a faint sheen of pink glitter. They're just… they're very pink. And they've got a bit of a lace trim. Which is also pink. He almost grazes a thumb over the crotch of them, but stops. He then proceeds to have an unintentional staring contest with them, until eventually he feels a twitch down below, upon which he immediately drops them again, grimacing to himself.

No no, nope. Not this shit again. Stop being a creep, Dipper. Put them in the laundry basket, Dipper. Now.

He swipes them back up, intending to do just that, stalking towards the basket full of clothes a few feet away. Here we go. Into the laundry basket. Dipper lifts his hand to drop them in, the underwear dangling from his thumb. Okay. He's putting them in. Before, that was just a little hiccup. Operation purge-self-of-any-and-all-inappropriate-Mabel-feelings is still in tact.

 _Now, drop them,_ Dipper inwardly orders himself, like he's speaking to a dog.

And he almost does. But at the last second he spins on his heel and fast-walks over to the other side of the bedroom, shoving the panties into the small, dark, unassuming crevice between his bed and his nightstand.

Afterwards Dipper calmly goes to pick up the basket of clothes, shunning thoughts of what he's just done and the reasons why he did it with every last drop of his brainpower. He walks down the upstairs hallway and yanks opens the double doors to their tiny laundry room, mechanically dumping his clothes in the washer without bothering to separate them, adding probably much more detergent than necessary, and starting the timer. Stiffly walking back to his room, Dipper slumps down in his desk chair and pulls out his math notebook to get started on the ridiculous load of AP calc homework he'd been assigned earlier that day. He meticulously and methodically works through numbers 43 through 65 on page 137, odd problems only, without break, his pencil with the chewed off eraser scribbling, his calculator tapping. He forgoes his usual habit of playing chill music while he does his homework in favor of working in a sobering silence. The entire time he tries to pretend he's not hyper-aware of what now lies between his bed and his nightstand, and fails.

For the first few days after his little discovery, Dipper stays strong. A sad, unfitting choice of words when 'staying strong' refers to 'not doing anything weird and/or gross with a pair of girl's underwear he had all but stolen from his sister,' but, it is what it is.

But a wrench gets thrown into his plans of self-restraint the following Friday. To be honest the day had bad omens written all over it. Clouds that threatened an annoying drizzle stubbornly fogged up the sky, the temperature oddly cool for April weather in mid-Cali. His alarm had for whatever reason failed to go off that morning, making him late for homeroom and earning him a tardy demerit (Mabel used to be the one who'd pop her head in his room and make sure he was awake on school days, but clearly that habit of hers is not a thing anymore), and in his haste to leave the house Dipper didn't realize he'd left the folder that held his ten page research paper for history—the one that was fifteen percent of his grade for the year and due that morning in 4th period, no exceptions—on the kitchen table. And later he trips over his own feet in the hallway right in front of a crowd of giggling girls, then pulls a long, gross hair out of his sandwich at lunch, and a couple of his buddies apparently have chosen today to be general dicks in terms of making Dipper the butt of every joke-of-the-day, and… it's just an awful, shitty day. So when the final bell rings, all Dipper wants is to go home, throw on a hoodie, curl up in bed and watch Netflix until he passes out. Luckily on Fridays he's got nothing going on after-school-activities-wise, allowing him to do just that.

Dipper skips the usual locker small talk with his couple of friends, keeping his head down, actively avoiding eye contact with anybody and everybody until he finds himself at his usual spot at the back of the junior lot, never so happy to see that crappy old paint-chipped van of his. He's just buckled his seat belt and turned the key in the ignition when the bad omens of the day culminate with Mabel running into view, waving her hands around with a sheepish smile on her face, Aiden trotting at her heels.

Damn. He just can't catch a fucking break today, can he?

As usual Dipper's (stupid, irritating) heart has a mind of its own, and inflates at the sight of her, but then of course plummets at the sight of who she's with. That usual overall nervousness he feels at the prospect of being near Mabel these days settles over his skin like a fidgety blanket. Since they only have English class on every other Friday, Dipper hasn't seen his sister at all today. A glimpse of the back of her head across the crowded cafeteria doesn't count. The first thought that pops into his head is that she looks cute, wearing that light blue sweatshirt of hers with the sparkly-anime-eyed cat face on the front. Under that she has on a purple tee with the Tootsie Pop owl on it under a romper that she tie-dyed herself, her curly hair in a loose braid that bounces over her shoulder. There's a lime green head band on her head, a sticker of a cartoon raspberry giving a thumbs up sign stuck to one rosy cheek, and gloss on her lips. As she gets closer, Dipper's second thought is that no wait, she looks beautiful, his third thought barging in right after that, squashing down the previous sappy sentiment with something along the lines of _god just shut the fuck up._ He gives his head a small shake, and dutifully rolls the window down when Mabel runs up and tap-tap-taps on it with a sparkly blue fingernail.

"Hi," she says breathlessly, continuing to speak quickly before he can even say anything. "How's it goin' Dip? Um, so, Aiden's car won't start again, and we're kinda supposed to be at his house in like twenty minutes for—well, eh, it's not really important, I just figured, it'd be easier if you could maybe give us a ride, instead of having his brother come get us? Y'know, if that's cool with you. I just thought, if you're headed home, and since his house is sort of on the way, you might maybe. Hook us uppp. Kachow kachow."

She lightly shoots finger guns at him, the fast talking dropping off. Momentarily at a loss for words, Dipper shifts his gaze over to Aiden, who automatically waves genially from his spot behind Mabel, looking vaguely confused—probably because Mabel is being so hesitant about asking her brother for a ride in a vehicle that's supposed to be half hers. Dipper blinks. Right. Words. Should probably say some of those about now.

"No, yeah, sure. Hop in." Dipper feels his lips pull back into a grin. It's probably a really awkward sort of grin. Oh well, it's the best he can do. He's less than excited about this, but turning them down would have been out of the question.

Mabel smiles back, looking relieved. "Oy, thanks Dipper, you're a lifesaver. The awesome candy kind."

There're more fingerguns; Dipper just nods, still grinning away with that awkward grin. Mabel walks with a hurried, peppy bounce in her step around to get in the passenger seat, Aiden opens the sliding door to climb in the back, and then they're off.

Dipper flicks on his blinker, turning right out of the school parking lot as Aiden makes a remark to Mabel about something some guy said sometime somewhere. Mabel lets out a giggle in response, turning around in her seat, leaving Dipper tense and uncomfortable in the driver's seat as he finds himself third wheelin' it once again. Juuust like old times. Except not really, because now the whole third wheel thing comes with like, ten extra layers of complication that makes this old classic 'left out' feeling that much worse, and that much more awkward. At least, it is in his head. While the two other people in the car make casual conversation, Dipper fiddles with the radio and the volume dial, needing to feel like he's doing something. Great, and now he's sweating. He makes a subtle attempt to wipe one of his damp palms off on his shorts, although it's not like either of them are really paying attention to what he's doing anyway. This is. Just so great…

And totally not weird. Totally not weird at all.

… _Eugh._

Yes, it's been three weeks. Sure, maybe Dipper has become a little more practiced in the art of acceptance…. and being humble… and not being a total dick to Mabel's boyfriend just for being Mabel's boyfriend… and setting aside certain things for the sake of someone else. Or at least, he's really been trying. And generally it's been much less awkward-and-terrible between him and Mabel, which is a very good thing.

But dammit, this is still weird. Such prolonged close proximity between him, Mabel and Aiden hasn't happened since he'd sat across from the lovey-dovey couple at the kitchen table, halfheartedly chewing on sesame chicken. And in between then and now, some preeetty, uh, unconventional stuff has happened between him and his sister. Three weeks ago, but there's no denying that it happened. The fact that Aiden is none the wiser and sitting happily in the back seat of his and Mabel's (mostly just his, these days) van is just… weird. And the fact that Mabel is still dating the guy like nothing ever even happened, like she never went behind his back that one time and slept with her brother—that is also weird (shut _up_ Dipper, you self entitled asshole).

Even though he badly wants to, Dipper doesn't really look at Mabel during the length of the drive. Instead he keeps his eyes glued to the road, like cops will swoop in and arrest him if he ever so much as takes his eyes off of it for more than two seconds. With this two-second rule going, he can't really be sure, but he gets the feeling that Mabel hasn't looked his way much, either. From the backseat, Aiden continuously initiates friendly bits of small talk about this and that, all the while letting Dipper know where he should turn. Up in the front seat there's a bit of an invisible elephant sitting between the two siblings, so if not for Aiden's presence, the drive probably would've been silent in terms of talking. Although Aiden is one of the reasons for the silence elephant in the first place, so maybe not? Maybe it's been long enough that if it was him just and his sister, they might be back to snickering and bantering about whatever, like they always used to before he unleashed a torrent of his repressed-for-a-reason feelings and messed it all up?

Or maybe that's just wishful thinking on Dipper's part… he dares a glance over at her, and she's looking anywhere but at him. His chest tightens. Yeah. Probably wishful thinking.

They finally turn down a street and approach a two-story white house with blue shutters, which Aiden points out as his. Dipper slows to a stop in front of it and puts the van in park, addressing his two passengers. "Well, this is your stop."

"Awesome. Thanks for the ride, Dipper," Aiden claps the shorter, smaller boy on the shoulder before scooting to pull open the sliding door.

"Sure. Anytime," Dipper responds out of reflex. Oh. Why. Why did he say that, that is the exact opposite of what he wants. Whatever. With any luck Aiden probably didn't even hear him anyway, already out the door and shutting it behind him.

Dipper turns to watch Mabel pick up her bezazzled pink backpack and start to push out of her own door, but halfway out she pauses, twists back around to look at him. Her eyes are soft, and Dipper feels his heart skip a beat. Her glossy lips curl into a smile, and the skipping quickly escalates into melting.

"Hey, thanks for the ride, bro," she murmurs.

He smiles weakly back, hunched over with his hands still on the wheel. A bittersweet feeling wells up in his chest, because he can't really pinpoint the last time she called him by that particular nickname. "No problem," Dipper says in a voice that he desperately hopes is normal and even, "I'll uh, I'll see ya at home later."

"Sounds good."

Mabel cracks another small smile, and then the passenger side door is slamming shut behind her. He watches her skip around the front of the van, giving him a little wave as she walks over to meet up with her boyfriend on the sidewalk that leads up to his house. Dipper awkwardly lifts a hand in his version of a wave back, but she already has her back to him. He sticks around to watch their retreating backs for all of five seconds, long enough to see Aiden casually lace his and Mabel's fingers together, before Dipper quickly trains his vision forward again, throws the van in drive, and accelerates away.

He doesn't even make it out of Aiden's neighborhood before he abruptly pulls off to the side of the road and his foot stomps on the brakes. Dipper blinks a few times in distressed confusion, not really knowing why he stopped. A deep frown mars his face, his hands tightly gripping the peeling faux-leather of the steering wheel, his arms stiff and straight as a board. Next thing he knows an angry, frustrated noise erupts from the very bottom of his chest, smashing through the silence inside the old minivan that smells like fast food and the strawberry-kiwi body spray Mabel must have been wearing. The sudden, harsh sound surprises even him. It sounded like something on the spectrum between a growl and a yell. With a dash of cry in there somewhere.

It feels good to shout and be loud and not hold things in for once, so Dipper makes the sound again and then one more time after that, each louder and angrier and more miserable than the last. He sinks down to rest his forehead on the steering wheel, the bill of his hat rising up on his head. He doesn't bother to fix it, his shoulders slumping, his eyes closing. He's always tired, but right now he feels exhausted, so Dipper stays there for a few solid minutes. Eventually he wordlessly sits back up and switches his foot back over to the gas pedal.

The yelling helped, but it didn't fix anything. There's still something building ominously inside him, growing more and more massive the whole drive home. Dipper makes it to his empty house in one piece, stalking straight upstairs into his room, shoving the door shut behind him with one foot. His bag drops curtly to the carpet, and he kicks off his shoes and rips off his hat on the way over to his unmade bed. Once there he throws himself down face-first into his pillow, and just lays there, steaming mad.

Fuck. _Fuck!_ Why, why him! He never _asked_ to feel _any_ of this bullshit!

He's angry, and knows he has no justifiable reason for being so angry, which only serves to make him angrier. It's a vicious cycle. He growls, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Dipper has spent the last three weeks focusing the vast majority of his energy on ridding himself of feelings that are impossible to get rid of. Seriously. This is impossible! Like, If it _was_ possible, wouldn't he have been over Mabel months ago? As in the _second_ he realized what his feelings meant, and certainly long before shit could build up enough to hit the fan? If anything, this whole "purge" attempt has backfired, only made things worse. Not being around her doesn't magically make him not _love_ her anymore, it just makes him depressed. And nostalgic. And it makes him miss her. Like all the time. She's pretty much all he thinks about. It's pathetic!

Dipper pushes himself up suddenly, flipping over to sit up with his back to his pillows and headboard. He glares across the room at his slightly ajar closet door, which, like most of the wall space in his room, is covered in posters, newspaper or magazine articles he cut out himself, little mementos or notes or drawings, most done by himself or Mabel. And then photographs. A giant chunk of which have Mabel's goofy, smiling face somewhere in them. Ugh. He really can't escape her. She's everywhere he looks.

This… this fucking sucks. Wanting what you know you can never have, and then trying to convince yourself you don't really want it, just fucking _sucks_. There's no other way to put it. Knowing what a horrible person you are for still secretly wanting it also fucking sucks. So does living with the knowledge that in some way you permanently altered, possibly forever ruined, your relationship with the one person you care about most. All because you did something stupid. And selfish. And disgusting, and terrible, and the list goes on.

This is so frustrating. He's a fact guy, it shouldn't be this hard to get the facts through his head. Mabel _does not_ feel that way about him. She made it pretty damn clear that what happened between them was a one-time thing. A mistake, an error in the matrix, a gross lapse in judgement on her part (and most certainly on his too, but for different reasons) caused by who-knows-what. Mabel is in love with somebody else. Someone who is not related to her, because she is normal and not a degenerate basket-case like her sibling. Someone who makes her really happy. And above everything else, Dipper wants his sister to be happy… even if that means he's going to be miserable. So if he really, truly loves her as much as he claims to, then he should be able to stop thinking about her like this, right? For her sake, he should be able to forget about how perfectly she fit in his arms. He should be able to stop thinking about how soft her lips felt on his lips. And on his neck. And the way she'd… darted out her tongue and… ran it over his pulse, and… god, if he could just kiss her one more time–

There's a small shifting sensation between his legs, heat pooling down below. Dipper bites his lip. Crap. His mind kinda went off track there. Again. Dipper squirms in his seat, feeling uncomfortably hot and antsy. Of their own accord, his eyes move towards the place where his bed meets his nightstand table.

Goddammit.

Whyyyy didn't he just put them in the laundry when he was supposed to? They are _really not helping._ This isn't the first time this temptation has hit, and until he gets rid of those damn things, it won't be the last. So far he's resisted the urge to look down there, but he doesn't need to look to know they're still there. It's like they're mocking him. They've been mocking him for days, ever since his moment of weakness when he decided to stuff them down there like a perverted idiot. It was so _stupid_ of him to do that. Dumbass. All he's doing is torturing himself.

Man. The past few days he'd always managed to break his eyes and his thoughts away by now, but Dipper's eyes are lingering, his mouth hanging open a little. Today just sucked so much, and he feels particularly low on willpower, and doing the right thing all the time feels like it's draining the life out of him, and he's so damn tired, and frustrated, and hopeless, and… and _lonely…_

…He shouldn't.

 _No one's going to know. And anyway, what were you planning on doing with them when you decided to take them? Come on, man. Get real._

Nope. Wrong. It'd be wrong. He made a promise to Mabel. And he's been working so hard to keep to his word. No more weird stuff. _No more._

Tiny beads of sweat dot along Dipper's forehead, his teeth biting harder into his lower lip. Without meaning to he thinks about earlier, pictures fingers that aren't his intertwining so easily, so naturally, with Mabel's. His own hands scrunch up into fists where they lay limp against the comforter.

Ah, _screw it._

His arm darts down into the crevice between his bed and his nightstand, groping around until he finds what he's looking for. He grabs them up, bringing the cotton underwear covered in sparkly little hearts into view, staring down at them with glazed over eyes just like he had a few days ago.

But this time Dipper doesn't stop himself from gliding his thumb back and forth over the crotch of them. His breath hitches, his cheeks heating up. Shit. Uhhm, yup, the last time Mabel wore these, she'd definitely been uh, excited. Out of habit his eyes dart towards his bedroom door, and then back to the item of interest. Oh god. He's gonna sniff them, isn't he? Yup, definitely is. Dammit. Not only is he gross, he's cliché gross. Dipper already feels like a huge perv before he even brings the frilly pink undergarment up to his nose, so afterwards he feels like _quite_ the despicable creep. It's also sad how much the faint scent of her does for him, his cock already pressing hard against the confines of his shorts. An intoxicated feeling begins to seep over his body.

No. No no no. Ugh, man, please don't do this. Do _not_. Don't do this don't do this—

He crashes back into bed, closing his eyes and frantically rubbing a hand over his crotch, his other hand clutching the panties to his chest. His palm quickly gets hot from the friction. The rest of his body is starting to burn up too, as is his face, but for very different reasons.

 _Mabel…_

Dipper unwittingly, yet inevitably, transports himself back to a night he's not supposed to think about anymore. The same night he's been helplessly stuck thinking about every single freaking day and night since. And as always, there she is, as if pasted on the backs of his eyelids, as if the memory of her has just been waiting on the edge of her seat for Dipper to break down and think of her again— her body soft and warm underneath his, the space between her legs even warmer and so gloriously wet. Her breath tickling his ear as she hurriedly whispers that it's okay, he can keep going.

Back in the present, the panties get brought up to his nose again and Dipper's fingers constrict around the stiff bulge in his shorts.

Stop. Please. _Stop_.

He drops them off to his side. But only for a second, just long enough for him to hastily unbutton and unzip his shorts, hook his thumbs inside his briefs and wrench both shorts and underwear down to his knees. Then he picks them up again, and the soft fabric that still smells like her gets wrapped around his throbbing erection, one hand holding it in place. Dipper starts moving his hand gently, his eyes squeezed shut. Ohh… oh no. Now that he's started he's not going to be able to stop. Shit. This isn't good ( _so, soo good…_ ). He's sick. He's weak. He's…

 _Oh god, Mabel—_

 _Yes_ , okay! He's a weak person with no self control, but he doesn't really give a shit about that at the moment because right now he's imagining himself inside her. He's imagining every last inch of himself inside of her, and it's… Jesus, it's unreal. The real thing is still so fresh in his mind, despite how hard he's been trying to block it out. But seriously, being with her was the most freeing, amazing feeling he's ever felt in his life, _ever_ , fuck, how in the hell is he just supposed to _forget?_ How is he supposed to trash the memory of the most incredible thing that's ever happened to him? How is he supposed to just forget about how stupidly in love with her _he still is?_

He can't. He _can't._ Dipper's working hand gathers speed, his wrist adding in little twisting motions with the panties on every upwards stroke, ones that make his inner thighs twitch and his fantasies that much more vivid. Through his ragged breaths he lets loose a few coarse, desperate little noises. Because he is. He is very, very desperate.

"Mabel," Dipper croaks loudly, sensually, because not only does he know for a fact no one's home and he won't get caught, but there's also that irrational, entirely selfish part of him that still wants so badly for his sister to hear him.

In his fantasy, she does hear him. She _more_ than hears him, hell, fantasy Mabel is currently deviating from what actually happened, kissing him deeply as she takes charge, switching their positions, crawling on top of him. Real life Dipper slips his hand underneath his t-shirt to run his palm over his bare chest, groaning as fantasy Mabel lines him up and sinks down on him, engulfing him completely in slick, overwhelming warmth. When fantasy Mabel starts to repeatedly lift herself up and smack back down against his lap, her hands gripping his shoulders, real life Dipper grunts and grits his teeth, thrusting against his hand. His crappy old bed frame creaks irately every time his lower back arches off the mattress, but he doesn't even register the sound, too far gone in his own head. "A-ah, _Mabes_ ," he moans again, his voice catching.

He's dully aware that the panties against his skin are causing too much friction. It's beginning to hurt a little. But not enough to stop, or even slow down.

If anything his hand becomes that much more ruthless. God. _God_. Fantasy Mabel is really doing a number on him. And the worst part about fantasy Mabel? Technically she's not all in his head. At one point, a version of Mabel who really seemed to want him as much as he wanted her actually existed in reality. There was a time where she was really _real_ , in his bed, dripping wet for him, her arms holding him close. And she hadn't just lied there as he moved in and out of her. Her hips had rolled up to his just as desperately. She'd kissed him back and then some, moaned into his ear, even softly called out his name.

And in the middle of it, when he'd stared into her eyes and she'd stared back, Dipper had been so enraptured, so _convinced_ that Mabel had to feel the same way about him that it was in that moment he knew, he _knew_ he was going to end up spilling his guts to her. Fuck it, he was going to tell her all of it. That he loved her, that he loved her so much it nearly drove him crazy holding it all in, how he had wanted to tell her for so long, how he'd give anything to be her number one person again, and how badly he wanted a shot at the whole being-her-boyfriend thing, too, as weird and unprecedented as that might be… god he wanted it more than anything, if she'd have him. He decided he was going to spell out what had been viciously eating away at him for so long, just suck it up and _tell_ her already, because—because— just the _way_ she'd held his gaze as they rocked together, how could there ever be a chance that Mabel didn't love him back?

In the moment he'd been so _sure_. The side of Dipper's brain that he's been trying to ignore still argues that yeah, he knows he's probably guilty of romanticizing parts of his memory, but come on, he couldn't have imagined _all_ of that, could he?

He switches hands, his cramping right hand taking a break to grab onto his leg, but the underwear stays. He needs it there. It's a sketchy connection to her, but a connection nonetheless. When it's there it somehow makes it easier for Dipper to vividly recall each of the little details from that night when Mabel was his and he was hers. The feel of her breasts pressing against his chest. Her fingertips digging into his back, her thighs trembling against his hips. The squeaks and whimpers he'd drawn out of her with his fingers, the way her mouth fell open when she came… the way she'd looked with her back bowed off his bed, her cute features crumpled into a picture of ecstasy, so fucking gorgeous that he'd literally stopped breathing for a moment. And _he_ was the one who caused her to do all of that, feel all of that. _Him_. No one else.

He switches back to his dominant hand. Both the creaks of the mattress and Dipper's breathing speed up, growing harsher and louder. A bead of sweat dribbles down the side of his twisted up face. His bitten-off nails dig into his thigh, his wrist jerking aggressively. He's doing his best to stick to the fantasies and the mouthwatering memories in his head, but bits of reality keep slipping in and messing him up, pissing him off.

Ugh! Just—screw you reality! Get out of here! Dammit, can't he have this one moment for himself? The last three weeks of his life have been hell! As understanding as Mabel had been of his apology (probably too understanding, in his honest, deep down opinion), his relationship with her is still in shambles. She clearly, _understandably_ , feels too awkward (disgusted?) to spend more than ten minutes at a time around him, and spends more time with her boyfriend than ever. And it's all his fault. He's the disgusting one. He's the one who was dumb and inconsiderate enough to let himself entertain that stupid pipe dream, that long shot hope that if he just… somehow clued Mabel in to how he felt about her, then maybe, maybe there could at least be a _chance_ that she might… that they could…

Ugh, it doesn't matter anymore, he was an idiot, he was a so very wrong idiot and everything blew up in his face, and now, he's _lost_ her. As incredible as it was to get to be with Mabel just once, it was not worth this. She's _never_ going to look at him the same way again, he just knows it, and shit man, he doesn't blame her. He's lost her trust, her friendship, all the little displays of sisterly affection and support he used to get on the daily, ev _erything_ , and every minute Dipper doesn't see her, every time he sees her attached at the hip with the abhorrently perfect guy she more or less chose over him _…_ Jesus Christ, it hurts. The kind of hurt that's like slowly withering away and wanting to burst in a violent explosion at the same time. That hopeless, helpless, sickeningly _longing_ feeling is always, always there. Pressing in hard on his chest. Crushing him.

Fuck. He needs to finish. But every time he gets close it slips just out of his reach. Dipper's head thrashes on his pillow, his lungs dragging in heavy, sporadic breaths. He hasn't touched himself in over a week, because when he does, he can only ever think of that night. He feels like he's going to die if he doesn't get this release. He needs this… oh, fuckit _,_ he needs _her_ , god, he needs her so fucking badly— h-how can she not _see that_ —

His orgasm finally slams into him, so hard that Dipper cries out softly. His heart beats thunderously loud in his ears as he shudders, his hand dazedly shifting the panties over the tip of his twitching dick a few seconds too late. In his mind's eye, he's not getting off into a pair of panties— oh hell no. In his head he's buried in her to the hilt and she _wants_ him there, her lips hot and urgent against his, legs wrapped around his waist, hands in his hair as he drowns in her. Perfect. _Amazing_. He lets himself get lost in the feeling.

He wishes he could stay lost forever. But as soon as that last aftershock subsides, and Dipper is forced to start making an effort to catch his breath, back in his bed, alone, reality is there waiting for him.

And man, is it _harsh._ His burning skin quickly starts to feel cold. Mabel's underwear drops from his limp grip as he brings up his hands to cover his red, sweaty face.

Oh no, _no_ , what did he just… he's supposed to be moving on. He swore to her, to her face, that he would move on, that she didn't have to worry, this was going to stop. What the fuck is he doing? He _promised_ her!

Apparently a promise means absolutely nothing to him, which isn't very surprising. By now Dipper is quite aware of the fact that he isn't exactly one of the greatest, most morally sound people to roam the Earth. Faaaaar from it. Integrity? Common decency? Nah. Clearly not very high on _his_ priorities list. Clearly.

Dipper croaks out a hoarse, cynical laugh, because the state he's found his life in these days is just. Ahh, hilarious. Seriously, this, this is rich. Home alone on a Friday night, jerking off into a pair of his twin sister's underwear, being an angsty little shit because _'wahh, my life sucks, I'm in love with my sister but she's a normal, non disgusting person who wants normal non disgusting things and didn't wanna leave her boyfriend to do the incest thing with me, wahh'—_ meanwhile Mabel is off gallivanting with said boyfriend, and they're probably laughing and joking around and happy, a-and kissing, and— and doing god knows what with each other—

A sharp stabbing feeling pierces Dipper's chest, that invisible knife deep and twisting. He's pathetic. He has the urge to throw up, he is so fucking pathetic. A burning sensation rises up in his eyes, accompanied by a lump in his throat.

 _Wow. You're going to cry, aren't you? Haha! Of course! Of course you are!_

… _Don'tyoudare._

Dipper takes his hands off his face and blinks hard, glaring at the ceiling, stubbornly swallowing down the tight feeling at the back of his throat. There will be no goddamn crying here tonight. He swore to himself he would stop crying over her, seeing as the excessive self pity thing felt really inappropriate considering what he… considering the circumstances.

Seriously, he has _really_ got to stop looking back at their one-off fluke of a night together with this 'fond wistfulness' his lovesick brain keeps insisting upon. There is nothing _fond_ or _wistful_ about dumping an industrial-sized bucket of feelings on your unsuspecting and emotionally vulnerable sister, confusing the unholy hell out of her, and then initiating sex in the midst of that stunned confusion, before anyone can bat an eyelash. Nnnope. Not cool, Dipper.

His stomach careens in a sickening lurch, as it always does when he mentally owns up to the cold hard truth of what he might've done that night. The whole thing had happened so fast, it's so hard to… like, she had touched his cheek and looked deep into his eyes and said all those things, and he swears to god, at the time he really did believe they were pretty much on the same page, or at least he truly let himself believe it, so… he didn't bother to ask before he kissed her. He didn't bother to ask before he put his hands all over her. Crawled on top of her. Took off his clothes.

And even if he did ask if she was sure before they sealed the deal, even if she did whisper that it was okay, even if she _did_ seem really into it, well… Dipper can't deny the fact that he knows his sister tends to be a people-pleaser who has a hard time saying no, and in hindsight how much of a 'yes' is a rushed _it's-okay-you-can-keep-going_ anyway, a-and… afterwards Mabel had _cried,_ she had been _crying_ and _not_ in the 'oh Dipper that was amazing' way,and she wouldn't really look at him, and tried to sneak out of his room and then acted like it never happened and holy fucking shit, _how_ is he supposed to interpret all of that, what did all of that mean?!

Jesus, w-what if, what if it meant— how is he supposed to live with himself knowing that he might've— god he still can't even say it—

 _Scumbag you're a scumbag you're a disgusting scumbag slimeball–_

Dipper presses his fingers into his watering eyes as he tries to calm his breathing, swallowing down another lump in his throat. It's getting harder and harder to trust his own memories and thought processes, the more he dwells on it. The screaming doubts and nauseating what-ifs and unanswered questions he's too mortified to ask her scare the _shit_ out of him, make him physically sick, make him seriously wonder how Mabel even manages to look at him anymore, let alone talk to him.

His stomach twists even further when he glances down and registers the sight of her cutesy pink heart undies where they now sit, used and sticky, on his hip. Oh, god. What is _wrong_ with him? He's so sick in the head.

Dipper props himself up groggily, looking down between his legs and wincing. In his desperation to get off he didn't exactly go easy on himself, his skin pink and tender. The underlying self loathing throughout the whole thing probably didn't help.

He sits all the way up, sluggishly using the cleanish sections of the panties to wipe up what he missed. Some of it got on his shirt. Lovely. He eases up his underwear, carefully stretching the waistband far out over himself so as not to further upset his sore crotch. Ow. Ow. Thaaat is not a great feeling. Way to go, Dipper.

His shorts get pulled back up next, fly re-zipped. His movements are slow and heavy. His limbs feel like lead. He scoots to drop his legs off the edge of his bed, hunching to rest his forehead in his hands.

This is not okay. So far from okay. Yeah, he might be in love with her, but Mabel is still his sister. And even if he's been a selfish, fucked up idiot lately, underneath it all Dipper still loves her the same way he always has. In that _you're my twin and I love you and I will always protect you and have your back_ sort of way. Man. He never thought his protective brother instincts would kick in so hard against himself. If Mabel knew the things he thought or what he just did or how terrible and disgusting he really is…

Jeez, how _crushed_ would she be? He's supposed to have her back. Like he always has. Mystery twins for life. Fistbump. That's their whole deal. Or it was, at least… she's supposed to be able to trust him.

He's got to do better. He's got to try harder. Because obviously, he's not trying hard enough. What's going on right now is _not_ working. He's just as shitty of a brother to her as he ever was, and Mabel… Mabel deserves so much better than this.

Something has to change. He has to force himself to change, even if it kills him. He's got to go back to being a good brother. _Just_ brother. He's got to accept that. Really accept it this time. Somehow. If he _really_ loved her, (and he _does, oh god he does_ ) that's what he would do.

Dipper's hands drag down his face, and then through his wild hair.

Fuck. He needs to go take a walk or something.

Dipper heaves himself to his feet, tugging off his shirt and pulling on a supposedly clean one he finds on the floor. His hat gets hooked back on his head, his shoes tied back on his feet. He heads for the door, but stops suddenly, turning back to his bed.

A pair of girly, pink heart panties still sit on the blue bedspread, crumpled up and out in the open. Yeahh… probably not a good idea to just leave them there. Would not bode well if anyone other than him were to walk in his room. Dipper contemplates washing them out now, putting them through the laundry before anyone gets home, but decides against it. What is he going to do, give them _back_ to her? After what he just did? It doesn't matter if he washes them or not. They're ruined. He can never give them back.

He hesitates, his dry lips pursing.

 _Well… if I can't return them, then maybe… it wouldn't matter if…_

"Oh my god, _really?"_ Dipper yells to his silent, empty bedroom, snorting in exasperation. Jesus Christ, has he really learned nothing?! Wow. Wow! He is going to throw them _out_. _Not_ keep them. Fucking hell, Pines.

Stomping forward, he plucks up the soiled panties between his thumb and forefinger, a grimace on his face. Oh. Disgusting. You know? He really needs to get out of here. Right now. He can throw these out later. They'll get their own trash bag and everything, and he will personally escort them outside to the dumpster. He swears. But right now he doesn't want to look at them anymore.

Dipper crams the dirty underwear back in the crevice between his bed and his nightstand, then stalks from the room, head down, the door slamming behind him.


	9. Spaced Part 1

**Spaced (Part 1 of ?)**

heyyooo, so this is an older pinecest fic set when they're in college, not sure how many parts yet… boy howdy here we go

((and shout out to pinkpines- this story was sitting around half finished and never destined to see the light of day when she took a look at it, then gave me feedback and ideas and stirred up some fresh writing mojo- u da bomb, pinky))

[ **Part one** ] [Part two] [Part three]

 _gotta stay awake, gotta try and shake off_

 _this creeping malaise.._

 _if i don't stand my own ground_

 _how can i find my way out of this maze?_

Without meaning to, Dipper checks his phone for the seventh time in the last twenty minutes. Just like the other six times, there's nothing to see when the screen lights up besides the fact that it's 12:47 AM, April third. He heaves a glum sigh, also without meaning to. His brown eyes, lined with purple rings, linger for a second on the photo that his sister took upon herself to set as his lockscreen wallpaper — a selfie she took of them over winter break.

It already feels like a lifetime ago. Christmas Eve-eve, at the party some old friends of their parents throw every year. The Mabel and Dipper frozen inside the screen are wearing homemade Christmas sweaters and elf ear headbands, both sporting matching derp faces, craning their heads far back into their necks so as to create as many chins as possible. Before the picture was taken he remembers the conspiratorial grin Mabel flashed at him while sneaking a box of Franzia out of the alcohol pantry when none of the adults were looking. For the rest of the night they sat together joking around in an empty garage, snapping dumb selfies and singing Christmas carols in weird accents and taking turns drinking cheap wine right from the spout. Yeah… good night. A lot of bag slapping jokes.

A resigned, barely-there sigh puffs out of Dipper's nose, and he lets the miniature screen fade to black.

He's not sure why he does this to himself. It's not like his phone is on silent. If someone wanted to reach him, he would hear it. That typical brand of annoyance sets in–annoyance at himself, at her, at _everything_ , mostly at himself–and he huffily tosses the phone towards the foot of his bed, where it lands with a _fwump_ in the wrinkled, crumb-laden sheets, just past his socked feet.

"What's with the pissed off face over there?" A light laugh chimes over from the other side of the cramped dorm room. Dipper turns his head just in time to see Myles take a hit from the small glass bowl in his hand.

"Nothing. Just zoned out. Am I up?" Dipper is impatient, but he tries not to sound like it as he glances back and forth between the computer balanced on his thighs and watching his roomie blow smoke into a beat-up paper towel roll, dryer sheets rubber-banded onto one side.

"Chill, Dip, there's plenty to go around," the willowy, shaggy haired boy sitting on the bed across from Dipper's finally answers, barking out another laugh, this one significantly raspier. Thin, barely visible smoke drifts in the air around Myles' head for only a few seconds before it vanishes, thanks to the two fans in the room spinning on full blast. "Damn. You sure you have come a long way from the dirty looks you'd give me whenever I'd light up and you thought I wasn't looking."

"Okay, come on, man. I did not give you dirty looks, you're exaggerating."

"Like shit you didn't. Get outta townnn, Di _p_." Myles' lips pop hard on the 'p' and he grins his signature out-of-it sort of grin. "You totally fuckin' hated me, bro."

"You're never gonna let that go, are you?"

"Hey, I got no hard feelings. I'm just sayin."

Dipper rolls his eyes, choosing not to answer to that. He slumps further into his pillow, focusing back on skimming _Glitch in the Matrix_ threads on reddit, one arm crossed behind his head.

Okay, for the record, there was never a point where Dipper full on hated his roommate, even if they did get off to a semi-rocky start. Myles Purfey is a nice enough guy. Tall, blunt to a fault, relentless joker, for the most part easy to get along with. Complete stoner. Actually, make that complete _generous_ stoner with rich parents, which really comes in handy if you're looking to get smoked out for free multiple times a week.

No, they didn't start out as _friends_ , per say. It was just a matter of having two very different personalities, minimal coinciding interests, that kind of thing. Plus when Dipper first moved in he wasn't a fan of the constant smoking in the dorm, even though Myles was careful enough about it and their flaky R.A. couldn't give less of a shit.

But they sure as hell are friends now. Things have changed since that August move-in date, and Dipper has become much, much more interested in his roommate's main interest, to say the least.

The song wafting out from Myles' computer ends, and another just as chill Lil' Wyatt song comes on in its place. The slow, warped, electronic intro makes Dipper blink sluggishly. He's tired. But he's only two bowls in, and that's not enough yet. Distractedly, his eyes flick down to find that his phone has somehow made it back into his hand. _Dammit_. His stupid thumb turns it on before he can stop it. Aaaand… nothing.

Another prick of disappointment pokes against the inside of his chest. Seriously? What the hell, Mabel. It's been like a week and a half. Is she mad at him or something? Honestly, Dipper wishes she was, even though deep down he knows that's not the case. Her being angry with him would somehow be better than her simply forgetting to call. Or text. Or Skype. Or anything. Anything at all.

She wouldn't even be able to use the excuse that she's been so wrapped up in a new boyfriend or crush or whatever that other stuff like calling her brother slipped her mind (an excuse he's heard once before and loathed, and didn't hesitate to call her out on how lame it was). Dipper is updated enough on Mabel's life to know that she just broke up with her most recent boyfriend a few weeks ago. Zaid… Something-or-other. She didn't seem too terribly beat up about it. His twin sister has already been in a couple multiple-month-long relationships within her first year of college alone, and the year isn't even over yet. He doesn't doubt that there'll be another guy to claim the boyfriend title sooner or later. His upper lip curls reflexively, just a little.

She's popular amongst her large friend group, he gathered that much from his weekend visit to her school last semester. No question. Mabel has friends, Mabel has relationships, Mabel has places to go and things to do. Dipper has… Myles…. and Myles' plentiful stash of green…. and some friend-quaintances he hasn't seen in awhile… and his bed. Ugh, okay. He's not actively trying to draw comparisons. That's never done either him nor his twin any good. He's just… he's just saying. She's a lot busier than he is. He can see how she might forget to call. Or text. Or let him know she's alive at all in any way besides posting happy-fun-and-joy-filled Instragram pictures that he gets to scroll past with lukewarm contempt at five AM when he's bored enough to actually get on Instagram.

Yes, he's a jerk with jerky thoughts. Oh well. At least he's a self aware jerk.

He clicks his phone back off just as Myles thrusts a newly packed bowl and a lighter in Dipper's direction, as far as his long arms can extend them, as if there was actually a chance of Dipper reaching out and grabbing things from the opposite side of the room.

"It's all you man," says Myles, wiggling his arms in encouragement. Dipper shuts his laptop and pads over to accept the generous offering, bringing the piece to his lips and torching the whole bowl before he even makes it back to sit on the edge of his bed. He puts more effort into holding in the smoke than he usually does, just wanting to be high already. His lips stay tightly sealed even after it finally occurs to Myles to toss him the dryer-sheet-stuffed paper towel roll. When he finally exhales, blowing smoke into the makeshift sploof, his lungs betray him and he succumbs to a barrage of full-bodied coughs, which of course makes his roommate laugh. Of the two of them, Dipper is the cougher. Myles always finds this hilarious.

"Woah, bro. That was quite the hit," he simpers, the large gap between his front teeth flashing with mirth. "Will he survive the kush this time, folks? It's not looking good." Dipper only nods with watering eyes, laughing weakly as he coughs a few more times, almost tripping over a small stack of dirty cereal bowls as he hands the cashed piece back over.

"Ohhmygod. Holy sh-" his chest spasms again, "–it. Fu-uhck. Holy shit. Yup, I think I'm all set. Shit."

He crawls back into his long unmade bed, enjoying the pleasant tingling that spreads all the way out to his fingers, down his legs. Oh yes. Quite the hit indeed. Yes. This is exactly what he was looking for. Good.

Dipper shifts to get comfy back in his spot against his propped up pillow, pulling his computer back into his lap, but forgetting to open it up. As his head swims on the cusp of no man's land, the constant tightness in his limbs and between his temples begins to loosen up a bit. He rests his head back against the chipped headboard, closing his eyes, breathing in and out slowly. He starts to feel okay for the first time that day.

Across the room Myles giggles, his naturally throaty voice sounding even thicker than usual. "Feelin' good over there?"

Dipper opens his eyes halfway, nodding slowly, his mouth stretched into a dim, pleased grin.

Another giggle. "Dude. I am with you. This shit is fucking _dank_ , praiiiiiise be 'Kenzie." He raises his large hands towards the ceiling in proper praise-your-drug-dealer-slash-girlfriend-for-hooking-you-up formation, then his arms flop back down and he starts to pack another bowl. As he does so he sleepily, yet somehow also passionately drones on about some band he's going to see next week with Mackenzie. Dipper, barely pretending to listen, lets his eyes to drift back to shut status.

All he wants to do is succumb to this feeling. This exact feeling he has right now. It's not even really much of a feeling at all, and that's what he likes about it. More like… floating in warm fuzzy nothingness. No invasive thoughts, no invasive worries. Just numbness. Sweet, tingling numbness.

But as his limbs become heavier and heavier and his body continues to tingle, Dipper's eyes begin to flicker restlessly behind his closed lids. He pulls the brim of his hat down low, as if that would help at all— it doesn't. Warm fuzzy nothingness still seems to be eluding him tonight, as baked as he is. Faraway anxieties snarl at him from the very edge of the fog, sending little jolts to his heart, dampening his palms.

How many phone calls in a row has he ignored from his mother, now? The count is getting up there. He's got to call her back soon, or she'll catch on… what day is it again? Tuesday? No… Wednesday. Shit. It is Wednesday. He knows because he checked his phone earlier to see another missed call from his internship director. And he has an 8 AM on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Quiz on the reading every Thursday morning—he hasn't studied—this week was the week he was supposed to make up for all the other ones he'd neglected to study for—

No no, Dipper, man. We're succumbing remember? Fuck you, we're _succumbing_.

He starts to think maybe he needs just one more hit. The worries keep slipping through the cracks. Just one more hit should do it.

Dipper voices this to Myles, and Myles obliges him, eating up the forced smile on Dipper's face like cake, and Dipper has the driveby thought that _it's fucking crazy,_ it's crazy how much things have changed in the past eight months. How much he's changed. He remembers having a lot more self discipline than this. This is pathetic, this is _pathetic_ , and he does his best not to care, at least not right now. Luckily apathy is something that's been coming easier and easier.

Everything was going according to plan when he first started here in the fall. Maybe that should've been the first red flag. Just as planned, Dipper finished out high school with an extremely high GPA, honors and scholarships galore (he snagged the salutatorian title, although to be honest he'd been aiming for higher). Just as planned, he got accepted into one of the best technical universities in the state, signing up to start straight out as a physics major with a minor in multimedia journalism. Honestly the one thing he didn't plan for in terms of starting this new life chapter was how much he was affected by the fact that his twin sister would not be joining him, especially as the end of the summer got closer and closer.

It's not like he ever expected them to end up going to the same university, deep down. Mabel got into a liberal arts school about an hour away from his, which is far from the worst in terms of distance, and is actually a perfect fit for her… but still. The day had finally come for the Pines twins to go their separate ways, and it was weird concept in a, uh… not-so-great way. They grew up together, like he promised they would, and then the date where they would finally have to part ways crept up on him. This was the farthest apart he would ever be from his twin, the person who knew him best, the person who was always just _there_ , like-it-or-not. He just… he thought he would feel more ready for it, is all.

When he'd timidly voiced these thoughts to Mabel about a week before they were set to ship out for their respective new schools, he'd felt such a huge sense of relief when she told him she felt exactly the same way. They exchanged heartfelt promises to text each other lots, to video chat weekly, to visit whenever they could. It comforted Dipper more than Mabel would probably ever know, because it reminded him that although he was headed into this brand new life phase without her, he wouldn't be _without_ her, you know? He would still have Mabel, even if he wouldn't be seeing her every day anymore. And she would still have him.

He was the first of the two of them to leave, and arrived at his tiny, AC-less dorm room the following week with high hopes. Mom and Dad and Mabel all helped him set up his side of the room (which he got to choose since Myles didn't end up showing up until late in the day), one box at a time. Mom helped him stuff clothes into his closet, Dad set up his desk and printer and stereo. Mabel dutifully pinned up all his posters and bulletin boards and unpacked his (according to her) nerd knick knacks for him. And right before his family's departure, she proudly presented him with a homemade scrapbook as a surprise parting gift, one that spanned over their whole lives—man, she pulled out all the stops in terms of her own personal brand of creative genius with that one, filling it with pictures and mementos and little handwritten blurbs of specific memories and inside jokes, cross stitching an intricately designed pine tree-shooting star combo onto the cover. Each page had a theme, each theme connected to a story, there were even parts that worked like a pop up book, the whole thing had to have included at least forty bucks' worth of stickers. He very nearly teared up when she gave it to him, she must have spent so much time working on it.

He shared a long hug with Mabel and then a shorter one with each of his parents before all three of them left, and he was suddenly all on his own, still holding the scrapbook between his hands. He remembers sitting on the edge of his new bed with his new bedding under his new posters, slowly thumbing through each lovingly handcrafted page. He felt a quiet stab of loneliness in that moment. But it passed, and somehow looking at the goofy, smiling faces of his and Mabel's younger selves made him feel like everything was going to be okay.

And first semester was okay. Okay enough. Not the "greatest time of his young life," like some had described college to him before, but not the worst. Classes got hard fast, even for him, the quote unquote smart one. Dipper found himself having to work harder than he'd ever had to work before, which was a little jarring, but he could keep up if he put the time and the effort into it. He joined a couple clubs, made some friends, called home regularly enough, texted Mabel almost daily and skyped with her once a week as promised. She visited him once at his school and he visited once at hers. Sometimes, a feeling of creeping loneliness would to pop up, a slightly different kind of loneliness than what he experienced while living at home. Dipper was prone to feeling alone though, even when he wasn't, really. It wasn't the worst version of it he'd ever felt.

In October he managed to land himself a spring internship with a local videographer, after showing off selected clips from his _Dipper's Guide To The Unknown_ Youtube series as a portfolio (yeah, _Dipper's Guide To_ continued through his teen years, and thanks to a tag-team effort with his twin, got fifty times better if he does say so himself). He got through midterms in one piece. Even had an almost-girlfriend for a while there in November… until she essentially dumped him for a mutual friend… who was a girl. That had been kind of a rough surprise. Still. He finished out the semester with decent enough grades, albeit with a vaguely dented heart… but then spent a huge chunk of winter break just farting around with Mabel, and the heart-slash-pride dent was popped back out.

Now, Dipper is shoulders-deep into his second semester. Spring semester… spring semester has been a different story. Along with his internship, he signed up for six classes in order to keep up with his four-years-to graduate plan. His advisor thought he could handle it, recommended it even. Eighteen credits and an internship. It was daunting, it would be a lot more hard work, but he was Dipper Pines. He'd handled plenty, he would handle this.

But classes started out twice as hard as they started in the fall. He would study his ass off in the beginning and still only manage a grade his high school self would've had a heart attack over. And it only seemed to just get _harder_. The work piled on, on and on and on. The to do lists would get so long that he stopped making them. He suddenly wasn't so sure that this was the right major, the right path for him, which kind of ripped a huge hole in his formerly impenetrable four-year plan, and the uncomfortable worrying about it quickly escalated to constant agonizing. He felt like he was drowning, and it was just one big what-the-fuck, because shit man, he thought he'd known how to swim for a long time. He felt lost, he felt alone, he felt supremely let down by himself. He would and still does have frequent headaches, frequent chest pains. He found himself joining in whenever Myles decided to smoke, first here and there, then a few times a week, now pretty much daily. It's like the only thing that makes him feel better anymore.

Somewhere along the way, he stopped going to class regularly. A stark contrast to fall semester Dipper, who never ever missed a class if he could help it. And turns out going to class is pretty important if you hope to pass, who knew. And the more he misses out on, the more the fear of failure grows, the more inevitable failure becomes, the less he feels like himself, the more he wonders who the hell he even _is_ anymore, the more he feels anxious, terrified, isolated, unsure… etcetera… etcetera… etcetera. That list doesn't really end. Basically he's dug himself into a hole so deep he doubts anyone could even hear him if he tried to call for help.

Calling for help seems out of the question anyway. Everyone—his parents, his teachers, his grunkles, his friends, his sister— _everyone_ had so much unbending faith in him, saw so many good things for him, the kid with excellent grades and carefully crafted plans and big dreams, the smart one, the reasonable one, the motivated one. Everyone thought he could handle it, everyone said he could handle it. He was supposed to be able to handle it, this whole life thing.

As far as his parents and sister know, he's still handling it, and he's really been struggling to keep it that way. He supposes it's one part shame, one part pride, and two parts not wanting to worry them, that keeps him from reaching out. To Mabel especially. Because while he flounders hard to keep his head just above the academic water, conversely his twin has been killing it at her school. She recently joined some artsy co-ed fraternity, is doing well in all her classes, loves her major, is all set to study abroad in London next semester. Like, clearly Mabel is flourishing over there, all on her own, without him. And hell, why wouldn't she, she's awesome. Everyone around her can see that too, obviously, as they would be blind not to, and consequently her life is taking off. He hates how insecure that makes him. The flash fire of jealousy he'll get in the pit of his stomach if he thinks about it too hard. Honest to god, he's happy for her, glimpses of petty bullshit feelings aside. He's happy good things are happening for his twin. She deserves it all and then some.

But meanwhile, while Mabel's life undergoes this grand takeoff, Dipper's life is taking an abrupt nosedive into the shitter. He's stopped going to club meetings, he's blown off enough invitations to hang out that people simply stopped asking, his anxiety has gotten so bad that his sleep schedule and appetite are virtually nonexistent if weed isn't involved. He's pretty sure he lost his internship at this point, he hasn't been in so long. He wouldn't know, since nine times out of ten he can't bring himself to answer his phone. Leaving his dorm has become so stupidly hard that he has to wait until Myles isn't around and then psyche himself up — angrily muttering to himself in the mirror, banging his head against a wall, digging his nails into his arms, pulling at his hair — to even be able to go to class at all. When he does go, he keeps his head down, unable to look his professors in the eye, focused more on blending into the background than getting what he can out of the material. His heart will race the entire time. No one is ever really looking at him, but it feels like they are. His brain constantly whispers to him that they all know, they all must know. There might as well be a blaring neon sign hanging above his head, a giant arrow pointing down at him with the words 'fuck up,' blinking on and off above it. Because that's what he is. And he can feel himself cracking slowly, bit by bit.

It'd been a long time since he last let the thought in. But now that he has again, it's been nibbling away at him. It pops cruelly into his brain, once, twice, three times a day. That all this sureee would be a lot easier if he just… didn't exist… anymore. It's a harsh thought. But it's not the first time in his life the idea has crossed his mind.

He experienced his first major bout of depression when he was about thirteen, not long after he and Mabel's first stint in Gravity Falls. It quickly shacked up with his anxiety, leaving his awkward young teenage self with panic attacks, jacked up paranoia, debilitating feelings of hopelessness, terrifying stress nightmares… oh yeah. Fun stuff.

Since then Dipper could never quite truly shake it, and it's flared back up here and there over the years. He can count the number of different therapists he's seen on two hands, and he's been off and on all sorts of medications. But it was always… manageable. The biggest reason it was manageable though, was Mabel. Mabel was the one who had the dependable ability to somehow draw him out of his funks without invalidating his feelings, not his mom, not his dad, not his school friends, not his therapist. Mabel was the one who could always seem to sense when he wanted her to say things and when he wanted her to say nothing at all; who would do her very best to understand, but also accepted that there were some things she never would. Mabel was the one who would could tell he was having bad days just by taking one look at his face, who would drop everything she was doing to plop down next to him and wrap her arms around him, no questions asked.

He remembers so many occasions of his sister finding him wherever he was holed up at the time, quietly cuddling up next to him, carefully laying her head on his shoulder without a word. And she would just… sit with him, and hold him silently. Sometimes for hours. For as long as he needed to be reassured that she was real and she was there and it was okay. It always meant the world to him. He could always draw at least some sense of relief from her presence, no matter how much he was hurting, no matter how haunted he felt at the time.

There were so many days where his twin was the only reason Dipper would bother finding the strength to get out of bed at all. And Mabel was the reason why, no matter how many times the thought crossed his mind during the extremely low lows, he would never seriously consider… cutting out early. After all they've been through together, he could never do that to her. Never. He loves her too much to leave her with that kind of mess to clean up. Hell, he loves her more than he's come to hate himself, which sadly, is saying something.

But now… now, Mabel's not here. Now Mabel has her own life, one that he doesn't feel much of a part of anymore. Even though her school is just a hour drive away from his, even taking last semester's visits into account, he still doesn't see as much of her as he thought he would. And this semester there haven't been any visits. The weekly skype calls have dwindled down to monthly, if that. Sometimes she'll text him and although he knows she'd never actually mean it this way, the way he reads her messages… it will feel like she's only talking to him as an afterthought. An obligation.

And Jesus Christ. That fucking hurts. _Nothing_ could've prepared him for this kind of hurt. Whether it's time, or distance, or whatever, it feels like they're growing apart. It feels like he's losing her. And it doesn't seem fair, that she can function so well without him while he slowly falls apart without her. Just that thought alone is like a punch to the stomach.

Dipper purses his dry lips, taking a deep breath through his nose. Yup. There it is now. Self induced gut punch. Feels as great as it ever did.

Myles offers him another bowl, and he takes it without hesitation, torching the whole thing in one shot again. This one finally does the trick. Within half an hour Dipper lays passed out on his stomach, face buried in his pillow, a thin trail of drool dripping down the side of his scruffy chin. The next morning he sleeps until eleven.

Mabel finally calls the following Monday. The phonecall stays lighthearted; he gets an update on her life, gives her a vague, positively-spun update on his. All the right subjects get avoided. Nothing has changed in terms of Dipper's slowly disintegrating sanity, but during the hour or so of talking to his sister about random crap, about things that don't really matter… it actually makes him forget, just for a little bit. Mabel will do that to him, always has, somehow. He finds himself laughing, bantering with her, even laugh-snorts once. But that hour or so ends. Mabel has somewhere she has to be, and she tells him she loves him and misses him and will call again soon. When she hangs up, for some reason he feels even lonelier than he did before he picked up the phone.

Dipper falls right back into low power mode–miserable, permeating, self-deprecating low power mode. It's like sleepwalking, and it's all he knows how to do anymore.

Friday creeps up through the haze, and he bombs a chemistry exam worth over a third of his final grade. That seems to be the last straw.

He walks out of the classroom and down the empty hallway, the first one to leave. His sweaty hands clutch the straps of his backpack, his eyes glue themselves to the freshly waxed floor. His image reflects back up at him from the shiny tiles, giving him a distorted glimpse of his unwashed hair, the bags under his eyes, the vacantly horrified expression on his unshaven face. He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to look at himself.

Oh, god. He knew going in that he was going to fail—that's what happens when you have frequent panic attacks and solve them by smoking so much that you pass out instead of study—but holy shit… he really fucking failed it. He knows he failed it. He's going to fail the class. He's going to fail everything. All that money his parents invested in him, all those scholarships, wasted. All those speeches he'd received over the years, about how he was meant for greatness—bullshit. For some reason a memory of his Great Uncle Ford pulling him aside to talk about his future and how much fucking _promise_ he had pops in his head, and a sick feeling wells in his chest.

Shakily, Dipper pulls his phone from his pocket, turning it back on, walking aimlessly through the hallways of the chemistry building. Scrolling through his recent calls list, his thumb jams down on Mabel's name on its own. He brings the phone to his ear, his heartbeat quickening, his foot kicking against the wall he's found himself leaning on for support.

 _Pick up, pick up, please please pick up._

It rings six times and goes to voicemail. He almost cries when she doesn't pick up, his eyes prickling as he listens to Mabel's chipper voice telling him to _'leeeeeeave a message at the boop! Booop!'_ But then he realizes that that would be a stupid overreaction to your sister not picking up her phone the minute you call, and any oncoming tears are fended off with a few hard blinks. Dipper sighs heavily, presses the end call button and lets his backpack drop at his feet. Sliding to the floor of the empty hallway, he pulls his knees into his chest, burying his head in his arms, hand still clinging to his phone.

He stays like that for a while, repeatedly telling himself that he only needs a minute, just one more minute. He's in the area of the building that's mostly just professors' offices, so luckily no one walks by. He almost jumps when the _Ducktective_ theme starts playing. It's a ringtone Mabel picked out for herself, so he doesn't have to check that it's her before he swipes his thumb and presses the phone to his ear.

"Hello," he croaks.

"Eyyyo bro! Saw I missed your call, what's up?" The second he hears her voice his throat feels tight, and he suddenly finds himself unable to speak. "…Hello? Dipper?"

"…I think I might've failed it," he finally manages to get out.

"Your chem exam?" He doesn't say anything, and he hears her sigh over the phone. "Aw, Dipper… I'm sorry." He still can't bring himself to talk. He can practically hear her grasping around for comforting things to say. "…Maybe there'll be a big curve?"

"This guy doesn't curve tests," Dipper is quick to counter, his voice nearly breaking mid-sentence. He's not used to failing things. He never used to fail things.

"What about extra credit? Could you hit up your prof's office hours? See if there's anything you can do?"

Dipper chews on his lip. No amount of extra credit could save him now. "I guess. I don't know." His voice gets quieter and quieter. "God… this whole semester is fucked."

"Dipper…"

"It is, Mabel. Everything is fucked and it's my own fault."

He waits for her to say something but the line stays silent. She's waiting for him to continue. Oh crap. Dipper's shoulders go rigid. He's made it a point to keep his own personal downward spiral to himself when talking to Mabel these days. She's got her own thing going on now, and he doesn't want to bother her, doesn't want to bring her down. Not when she's clearly so happy where she is. But now that the words have started coming out, he can't stop himself. His head sinks down to press against his knees.

"I-I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I don't know how it got this bad, but it did, and now…"

He trails off. She finally starts talking, obviously hesitant, "…maybe part of it is because you're taking eighteen credits and an internship and it's only your second semester of college?"

"Not helping, Mabel," Dipper moans into his legs, voice muffled.

"I'm just saying, you know you… you don't have to do it all at once. You got time. And it's okay to need the extra time. Y'know, to take care of yourself." She pauses for a second, worry then filling her voice. "You've… you've been taking care of yourself, right, Dip?"

 _Why are you even bothering to ask if you already know the answer,_ he thinks bitterly. He lets out a shuddering breath and says nothing.

"Dipper."

"What?"

"When you said bad you meant bad bad, didn't you?"

"It's…" he sighs, "…not good."

"Why didn't you tell me?" She sounds so hurt, and Dipper feels sick to his stomach. He swallows hard.

"…I don't know."

Mabel stays quiet a moment, then takes in a pointed breath. "I'm coming over there."

Dipper's head shoots up from his knees. "What? How? You don't even have a car."

"I'll take the bus. Or a cab, whatever. I'll get over there somehow."

Dipper scrubs at his eyes. The bus system between their schools only runs once a week and is overpriced as hell, and a cab would cost her at least a hundred bucks. "Mabes, come on… you have class… and you've been talking about that fundraiser thing happening this weekend for months… I mean we'll both be home for Dad's birthday next weekend, we'll see each other then."

"But you said it was bad, Dipper," he hears her voice growing thick and high-pitched and the sound makes his throat get tight again. "Y-you said it was bad and if I don't come then how am I supposed to know if you're eating, and sleeping, a-and okay, because it's not like you'll tell me these things yourself anymore."

"Mabel, _it's fine._ You don't have to come over here, okay? It's not as bad as you're—"

" _Stop_ lying to me." Mabel's voice is dangerously strained, a shaky edge to it. Dipper's mouth clamps shut, his heart beating fast, his hand clutching his phone hard. He hears her sniff. Oh god, is she crying? Did he make her cry? Jesus. He's such a fucking asshole.

"I'm sorry," he says, voice barely audible.

She doesn't acknowledge the apology, sniffing again. "…Have you been eating? You need to eat, Dipper."

"I know."

"And sleep."

"I know, okay? I know."

"What about class? Have you been going?"

Dipper's cheeks color with shame, and he emits a noncommittal grunt, huddling down into his sweatshirt against the wall. Mabel makes a disappointed noise and doesn't do a very good job of hiding it, causing something in his chest to tighten ominously. " _Dipper_ , you know things are just gonna get worse if you keep missing—"

"I get it! I _know!_ God Mabel, if you're just going to jump on my ass like everyone else and tell me things I already know then neverfuckingmind!"

Before he can stop himself, he rips the phone away from his ear and mashes his thumb down on the end call button. Cold silence settles back over the barren hallway.

Dipper takes in a ragged breath, then another. His death grip on his phone loosens, his own yells repeating harshly in his ears. Shit… shit. The urge to cry rises up high in his throat again. This time he doesn't stop it, and the tears start to drip down his cheeks, off the tip of his nose. For a long time he stares through watery vision at the dark screen of his phone, pathetically hoping for it to light up with his sister's picture. She doesn't call back.


	10. Spaced Part 2

**Spaced (Part 2 of ?)**

[Part one] [ **Part two** ] [Part three]

(this part is **nsfw** )

 _are we going on a coat ride?_

 _well, we're off and definitely stumbling_

Later, Myles strolls into their room to find Dipper slouched in bed under the covers, surrounded by balled up pieces of paper and chewed up pens. A beat-up looking notebook sits propped against Dipper's knees on top of the blanket—his old book of lists and schedules, which for the last few hours he's been using to try to formulate a working plan to get his shit back together. They've all been pretty pitiful ventures. The harder he tries to come up with something that's actually practicable, the more he feels like a very scared, very cornered animal.

He still hasn't heard anything from Mabel. He made a few attempts to text her, typing out chunks of text, slowly stringing words together to form careful apologies, trying to explain himself without worrying her even more than he already has… but whenever it came time to hit send, he would chicken out, deleting everything and dropping his phone on the bed right before dropping his face into his hands. It was a very productive afternoon.

"How's it, Dip," Myles says through a mouthful of dining hall to-go food, kicking off his shoes.

"Hey…"

Damn. If he'd known how bleak and scratchy his voice was going to sound, he never would've opened his mouth. Dipper clears his throat, keeping his eyes fixed on his notebook.

Myles lifts an eyebrow, walking over into the cluttered space between their beds, setting the to-go box and a bottle of Coke down on his desk. Dipper unconsciously ducks his head down further, a stiff attempt at hiding beneath his hat. The last thing he wants is for Myles to notice that he'd been crying earlier. He's not in any shape to explain himself to anybody, especially not to his _'brooo, why the long face, everything's alllll good allll the time, bro'_ roommate. His eyes are sore and droopy, and he has a stress headache, and also that pungent taste in his mouth due to his stomach trying to tell him that it hasn't been tended to all day and to fucking feed it already.

"Yo, think you got some ink on your mouth, there… man. You look like shit."

"Ha…" Dipper nods and chuckles dryly, rubbing the ink from his bottom lip with the knuckle of his thumb. "Yup. Probably do."

Myles gestures at all the crumbled papers scattered around. "Whatcha workin' so hard on?"

"Stuff for class," Dipper says flatly. Myles seems to accept this answer and turns away to stoop over his desk and open his laptop, scrolling through his music library. Meanwhile Dipper jams his pen between his teeth and rips out another sheet full of his crossed out (then erased, rewritten, crossed out again), tiny scrawls. Another shit, nonviable plan. This one wouldn't work for the same reason a lot of the others wouldn't. It involves too much coming clean. Would probably result in his parents pulling his cooked ass out of school, their failure son who they thought they could trust. The paper gets crumpled up in one bitter fist. It falls lifelessly from his hand, rolling into the others.

Myles finally decides on a song, the beginnings of an easygoing hiphop number breaking the silence. He tugs off the shirt he's wearing and flings it onto the floor, pulling a different floor shirt over his head in its wake. It's when he picks up the Coke again to take swig that Myles pauses, looking over at Dipper, this time really, actually looking at him. Dipper keeps his eyes glued firmly on the empty sheet of college-ruled notebook paper. The emptiness seems to go on for a hundred miles rather than eleven inches, the dull throb in his head escalating into more of a pinch. He can feel himself bristling under Myles' continued stare, and starts to count the thin blue lines on the white sheet, thumb rhythmically clicking the button on his pen.

 _One, two, three…_

"Hey, are you okay?"

 _Nope. Thanks for noticing._

"Yeah, I'm fine."

 _Eleven, twelve, thirteen…_

"You sure?" Myles sounds uncharacteristically uncertain, like he just now woke up and is having his first look at the guy he shares a room with after months of being blissfully half-asleep. Dipper's grip on his pen tightens.

 _Screw off. Twenty-four, twenty-five…_

"Yup. Pretty sure."

"Uh, okay… kinda seems like you're not, but okay."

Dipper says nothing to that. Just keeps on with the pen clicking, his back hunched and tense, no eye contact. Myles slowly screws the cap back on his Coke bottle and scratches the side of his face. "Mm, would you be down to smoke? Would that help whatever's going on that you don't wanna talk about?"

 _That_ gets Dipper to stop counting lines in a borderline-livid way and finally look up. He gets hit with a wave of guilt about all the shitty thoughts he was having about his roommate not more than ten seconds ago. Myles' intentions are pure, even if he still doesn't actually know Dipper that well. The pressure behind Dipper's forehead relaxes a little at the prospect of relief. He cracks a smile. "God yes, that would be amazing."

"Ahhh, there he is! Just in need of a little therapy from Dr. Greenthumb, I feel that, I feel that." Myles smirks and dips his hand into one baggy jeans pocket, pulling out a royal blue vape pen and clicking the silver button several times. "Here, freshly loaded. You're welcome."

Dipper takes it, examining it between his fingers. "Did you just get this? I've never seen you use it before."

"It's a friend o' mine's. Treat it with love and kindness."

"Gotcha." Dipper goes to lift the pen to his mouth, then takes it away at the last second. "Do I hold the button down the whole time, or…"

"Just hold it down a few seconds and inhale." Myles makes a skeptical face, looking down at Dipper from the end of his long nose. "Honestly, do you even _vape_ , broh?"

"Fuck off," Dipper laughs. "Keep your sad dead meme references away from me." He takes a hit, then a second one, unsure if he got anything the first time. He tilts his head up to breathe out but Myles puts up a hand.

"Hold up. Just in case ol' Larry's walkin by outside." The dryer-sheet paper towel roll gets chucked to Dipper's side of the room, with Myles softening his voice to the closest likeness one could ever hope to achieve of stoner Obi-Wan Kenobi, "use the splooof, Luke."

Dipper nearly snorts smoke from his nose, laugh-coughing it into the end of the paper towel roll. "Da-ammit, Myles…"

Myles keeps the weed and the jokes and the music flowing, never faltering in his lifelong, self-designated task of lightening the mood. Before long they're both moderately high and Dipper is feeling good enough that the need to apologize rises up in his throat.

"Hey," he says, "sorry for being a dick earlier. Today was kind of a bad day."

"Yeah, I figured. No worries, we all have our shit days." A shifty grin starts to bloom across Myles' face. "You know—you know what _you_ need?"

Dipper raises an eyebrow, watching as the smile on his roommate's face moves into unsettling territory. "Um, I don't know if I wanna know what I need."

"You, my friend," Myles says with blazed conviction, "need to be drunk. Me and Kenz and a couple of our other buddies are going to a party on Third tonight, you should come out with us."

"Nahh, I'm…" Dipper averts his reddened eyes, "not really in the mood to go out."

"Well, yeah, are you ever actually in the mood to go out?" Myles laughs, rummaging around in the cluttered space under his desk. Dipper shoots him a dead-eyed look. "Ohhh, don't be that way. It'll be fun, you can help me break in this sucker right'chea." From under his desk he pulls out a jumbo handle of Fireball whiskey, standing up straight and waving it back and forth. "Come on. Bear necessities, son. Forget about your worries and your strife and shit. By getting crunk. With me. Your favorite roomie in this whole wide world."

"Wow that logic is. Just so foolproof."

"Oh, don't I know it." Myles touches his tongue to the sealed cap of the bottle, then brings it down to his butt and makes a hissing sound. "Come onnn! It's Friday night, live a little."

Dipper looks at Myles, and then at the bottle, and then down at his hands, turning the vape pen over and over between his fingers. Sure, it's a Friday night, but he's still up to his ears in labs and papers and upcoming exams he should've started studying for ages ago. He should also call Mabel back. He should've done that hours ago. He should write his chem professor an email making his case (i.e., begging) for a second chance at that test. He should sweep all these balled up piece of paper off his bed and actually _do_ something about his problems instead of just forever dog paddling around in them aimlessly, stirring them up, making them worse.

The area behind his forehead starts to pinch again. He takes another hit, eyeing the two shot glasses Myles is currently pouring Fireball into.

"Ah, I dunno…" Dipper rubs at one eye with his fingers, sighing. "Maybe."

"Ahh, ahhh! Almost got him! Say the words with me man— 'I, am, coming…" Myles pauses, gesturing his hands in encouragement, "Ouuttt… withhhhhh…' "

Dipper lets his head lull forward, closing his eyes through an exhale. What's one more bad decision in an ocean of them, anyway. His head pops back up. "Fine, I'm in. But wherever we end up going you have to promise not to leave without me, alright? I don't wanna end up walking home by myself for the billionth time."

Myles claps his hands together and snaps some victory fingerguns, before handing Dipper one ridiculously full shot glass. "Caaan do, bro. Kenz has a bunch of out-of-towner friends crashing at her place this weekend anyway." Myles raises his own shot glass solemnly in the air, prompting Dipper to grin and do the same. "Tonight the boys of Wampler Hall are stickin' together."

Dipper humors him with a "hear, hear," and they toss back their shots, both pulling faces afterwards, laughter ensuing.

Dipper doesn't quite believe his roomie's promise not to ditch him. Myles is hard to stick with at parties, his girlfriend and closer friends usually hauling him off somewhere Dipper never gets the memo about. But empty promises aside, the weed has calmed him down, the tears have long dried, and the burst of alcohol sits warm in his stomach, and now the idea of a chance at temporary escape—even if it's just a chance—is growing more and more appealing to him.

One more shot of Fireball gives Dipper a pleasant weed-to-alcohol-ratio buzz, and that sells the decision. Off come the sweatpants and on go the cleanest pair of jeans he can find, along with his favorite t-shirt (a _Twin Summits_ shirt, gifted to him by Mabel two birthdays ago) and the first flannel he comes across. He snarfs a bag of chips for dinner and heads off with Myles into the night, still hanging onto that pleasant buzz, maybe a little too desperately.

Two hours later, Dipper is at the house party on Third Street and a lot more than buzzed, but there's nothing really pleasant about it anymore.

Earlier he and Myles first stopped off at some-guy-Dipper-didn't-know's place to "chill and pregame" as Myles put it. As soon as he stepped foot in that apartment, thereby immersing himself in a small, intimate gathering of people who were friends with Myles and not him, Dipper knew coming along tonight was probably a big mistake. It was a mistake, because everything, _everything_ was hard. Way too hard to be worth being here. Making conversation was hard, playing background-friend-of-a-friend-no-one-cares-about was hard, trying to smile and pretend he was having a good time was hard, looking people in the eye at all was hard.

When did looking people in the eye get to be so fucking hard?

Dipper found that the easiest course of action against the uneasy feelings swirling around inside of him was to keep drinking, and so he did. One drink and then another after that.

Now, he leans against a wall in a dimly lit living room of someone he doesn't know, red solo cup of Pabst in hand. Every thirty seconds or so he mechanically brings it to his lips, sipping and glancing out from over the top of the cup with cloudy eyes, warily taking in the party that rages on around him. Watching the people here makes him feel like he's looking down the wrong end of a telescope.

Myles drifted away from him over an hour ago, leaving to go smoke some more upstairs probably, too baked and too caught up in having a good time with his real, non tag-along friends to remember to invite Dipper along. Loneliness and dread have taken Myles' place, making themselves at home on Dipper's shoulders, heavy and blanketing, as if they never really left.

Pff. Some temporary escape.

Dipper stares down at the pale liquid in his cup, swishing it around, lifting it to take a long gulp. A trap remix of a song he doesn't recognize starts to boom through the house. He sighs, leaning further into the wall, pulling out his phone for lack of anything else to do. As usual happy Christmas-themed Mabel and Dipper look back at him, and for some reason, they catch him off guard—probably due to his lack of soberness. His face falls like a stone. The phone gets stuffed back into his pocket, where his hand stays as well. He sips his drink, eyes on the floor.

He should've called Mabel back. Why didn't he call her back? He basically told her to fuck off. And then he just left it like that? The fuck, Dipper. You should've called back. You should've—

"Wow, hipster alert," comes a voice from right next to him, jolting him out of his downward thought spiral. Dipper's head swivels around to find the source, much more drunkenly than he meant it to. He finds himself having to tilt his gaze further down than he's used to, because although he's not the tallest guy around, this girl is still a good bit shorter than he is. Short, and also curvy; he can tell, because she's wearing a crop top-skirt combo that accentuates every one of them. Her eyes are large and dark, her hair long and glossy and even darker, and she's gesturing at his chest with a hand that holds a red cup identical to his.

"Tell me you're just wearing that for show, I mean did anybody actually even watch that shit?"

Dipper blinks at her for a second, this random girl who came out of nowhere, before looking blankly down at his shirt and back up. He squints at her. Wow. Did she really come all the way over here just to blast his choice of clothing?

"Uhh…"

"I'm kidding, man, I love Twin Summits. The series finale blew my mind, you don't even know."

Since the vibe has switched to friendly, Dipper cracks a smile. "Yeah, if you could call that a series finale. I'm still bitter about not getting another season. Rip, satisfying Twin Summits ending that will never be… what?" He asks when she starts pointing at his mouth. "Do I have something on my face, or?"

She shakes her pretty head. "No, you're smiling. That's good, you seemed kinda pissed at me before for the lame shirt joke."

"Oh," Dipper says, starting to chuckle along with her, scratching self-consciously at the hairs on his chin. "Sorry, yeah, no, lame jokes are fine. Just kinda slow on the uptake right now, this isn't my first one of uh, these." He holds up his cup and swishes it around.

"Trust me, you're not alone there."

"Haha. Cool, cool." A moment or two goes by while she sips her drink and he bobs his head faintly to the music, inwardly grasping around for something else to say to her. He ends up going down the most obvious route. "What's your name?"

"Arianna," she calls. He almost misses it since the bass of the song drops right as she says it. "Ari works too."

"Nice to meet you," he calls back, keeping his voice raised so she can hear him over the thumping bass, "I'm Dipper."

"Dipper?" She giggles incredulously, but it's a good natured, albeit tipsy, giggle. "That's cute. Are your parents weirdos, or is that a nickname for something?"

Dipper squints his eyes and pretends to give the question some actual thought. "Uhm, the second one? Yeah, nnnickname."

A beat goes by and her eyes shift away from his and then back. "Arrre you gonna tell me what it's for?" She laughs.

"Hey woah, uh, we just met. I need to keep some of my secrets, y'know?" He gives her coy smile, keeping his eyes on her as he takes another sip of his drink, finishing it off. He's feeling oddly confident—aka, he's a lot drunker than he thought he was. "We gotta, we gotta work our way up to that one."

Arianna bites her lip as she grins back, and then pokes him playfully in the chest with one manicured fingernail. "Bet I can get you to tell me before the night is over."

"You're on, kid." He points at her, cocking his head challengingly. "Don't think I'll make it easy for you," he scrambles for her name, and miraculously manages to recall it at the last second out of the drunken smog of his brain, "—Ari."

Okay. Flirting. Nailing this. He must be, because she's standing a lot closer to him than she was a minute ago, a _lot_ closer.

"Wouldn't dream of it. So what do you do for fun, Dipper?" She nudges his arm, practically purring the words, if you could call any voice that involves lowkey yelling over loud music a purr.

"Ah, you know. I, uh," Dipper's brain buzzes around for an answer, but comes up empty, and Dipper's confident voice dies away. Ariana looks at him expectantly. All of a sudden it's a lot hotter in this crowded room, and his hand comes up to tug the collar of his loose flannel on its own.

Okay Dipper, say words. You can do it. Uh. Jeez. What does he do for fun anymore? He stopped going to all the university clubs he joined in the fall ages ago. The same pile of overdue library books has been sitting next to his bed since February. His journals, his camera, his conspiracy blog, his Youtube site, his sketchbook, even his video games… all untouched for… he doesn't even know how long. Damn, what _has_ he been doing with all his time lately? He can't even fucking recall. His brain feels like the equivalent of tasteless mush. The only things that come to mind are smoking, sleeping, watching Netflix documentaries, staring at the ceiling… somehow he doesn't think any of those things will sound all that impressive to this girl.

"Right now just trying to get through the semester in one piece," he tries to go the vague, lighthearted route, and crosses his fingers that he doesn't sound as uncomfortable as he feels. She laughs with him, nodding for him to continue, and he swallows. "But uh, yeah, I've just been… hanging out a lot, and…" _Hanging out a lot? The fuck does that even mean?_ On the verge of panicking, Dipper's brain latches onto the Netflix documentaries part of his lame life, specifically on one he watched last week that took place in Indonesia and also had subtitles. "I'm uh, really into foreign films right now?" He scratches at his face again. God, that sounded so dumb, _so_ dumb, somebody stop him–

"Oh, that's awesome. I love _Amélie_ , have you seen that one? "

His first impulse is to laugh, just a small, short, tipsy chuckle—because everyone and their mom who's "into foreign films" has seen _Amélie_ , which was eh, charming but tried too hard in his opinion—but no, that would be douchey, don't be a pretentious douche, Dipper, she still seems to like you, Dipper, don't ruin this.

"Yeah, that's ah, yeah! A good one. Love the part where she fucks with the grocer guy."

"I bet you just looove watching people get fucked with, huh, Dipper?"

"Ooh. Sensing a little innuendo in your tone there. Sneaky. I like it."

"I am _very_ sneaky," she agrees, lightly poking his chest again, "so um. You better watch your back."

He raises his empty cup to her, nodding with a faux-serious face. "Oh, noted. Will do."

She laughs, moving a step closer. "Soo," her hand latches innocently onto his, "would you wanna come dance with me, new friend?"

It's a superfluous question, really. She's already stepping in the direction of the room where all the grinding-poorly-disguised-as-dancing is happening, pulling Dipper along with her. Yeah, okay… why not, he's drunk enough for this. One corner of his mouth quirks upwards, and he answers her anyway.

"Sure."

Looking back, there were instances, several instances actually, where the little voice in Dipper's head yelled for him to _stop fucking drinking_ _already._ But for various reasons, the voice gets ignored each time. This is the first time he's been out in a while. He's thrown everything he has into playing the role of 'normal college dude at party,' and there's no turning back now.

The point where Dipper really should've cut himself off probably passed him by somewhere between his new lady friend grinding all up on him on the dance floor, and her dragging him off to play a round of flip cup with her friends. Luckily he seems to be one of those people who plays better when they're fucked up, because he sure as hell isn't failing at this, gradually making his way up to life-of-the-party status. And god does it feel good. He can hear himself whooping and hollering along with everybody else, can feel strangers clapping him on the back, a pair of full lips pressing playfully to his cheek every so often. It's so good to feel _good_ for once, even if it's fake, alcohol induced good. He becomes so beautifully detached from himself that he's no longer Dipper, pathetic guy with pathetic problems, at all. Seriously, _fuck_ that guy. Right now he gets to be some other guy, a _fun_ guy who looks people in the eye when he talks to them, who has lots of friends and girls interested in him, a guy people actually want to be around, a guy nobody would ever forget to call or text or Skype. In this moment he's regular college kid who's just here to have a have a good fucking time with everybody else and _holy crap_ alcohol is _awesome_ and he should probably go get some more of it, stat.

Dipper loses count of the number of times his red solo cup gets refilled, and the night blurs by. Sometimes he'll close his eyes and when he opens them again he'll be somewhere completely different; leaning against the railing of a back porch, his head thrown back with laughter; standing next to some dudes playing beer pong he just met, cheering them on like they'd all been best buddies since kindergarten; in the bathroom taking a leak for the second time—third time? Eh, who gives a fuck.

At another point he blinks back to himself and finds himself back on the dance floor, his back pressed to the wall, his hands holding on to a pair of wide hips, a plush, short-black-skirt covered ass grinding into his pelvis to the beat of a song he can barely make out the tune of. He moves against her sloppily, heedlessly, sometimes bumping into the other dancing couples crammed on either side of them without even realizing it. She spins around in his arms, and he can see her giggling, although he can't really hear the sound that comes with it. They share a beat or two of foggy eye contact before he drops his head and his lips crash onto hers, and then a second later a tongue that tastes like beer and cigarettes is writhing around in his mouth. The ashy taste doesn't bother him at all, his eyelids slide shut like weights. He's so audaciously out of it that he doesn't feel the sweat that has the shirt stuck to his back, doesn't notice the way his legs teeter and sway, doesn't feel the storm clouds gathering in his stomach. Right now there's nothing on his radar but a low bass vibrating in his chest, a wet mouth on his, a faraway tingle in his groin.

This is fine. This is good. He's gone. And whoever has taken his place is having a damn good time.

Everything is a-fucking-okay.

The next time Dipper comes back into some real awareness ('real' being a loose term here, since he's a person floating around near the edge of blacking out), it's thanks to a dorm room door slamming shut. He jolts, becoming aware of the fact that it's finally quiet, and that his head is swimming badly, partly from the jostling he'd received from being dragged inside this dark room. Next he registers a giggle. Next the sound of a lamp clicking on, after that the light that comes with it. His mind is only capable of processing one thing at a time, slowly.

His lips throb a bit, swollen due to his new friend here practically eating his face on the short bus ride back to her dorm from the party, her hands all over him. He becomes vaguely aware that they were being _that_ couple during the ride, and he's usually the person rolling his eyes at _that_ couple, but Dipper is four hits and who knows how many drinks into tonight, so usual sense of judgement and self-awareness be damned.

Now, she's suddenly in front of him again, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down for another slapdash kiss, then another, another. Dipper feels himself responding out of reflex, his arms snaking around her waist. Her body is warm, and soft, and his brain acknowledges these facts, but that's about it. It's hard to tell if he's enjoying this anymore. This kiss with… uhhh… uh.

Crap. What was her name again? Allie? Alexa? A… something. Fuck. He's so, so, _drunk_.

She starts rubbing a hand quickly back and forth over the crotch of his jeans, whispering breathless words here and there to him in between kisses. Her hand is almost too rough, but he can feel himself hardening at her touch anyway. Dipper cracks his eyes open, squinting thoughtlessly around her dark bedroom as he continues to be a willing, participatory party in drunk-ass sloppy makeouts. He tries to recall how he even managed to get this girl to look his way earlier, and gives up after three seconds of scattered thinking. And recalling how he'd ended up back in her dorm? With her tongue down his throat? Forget about it. His brain is gone. Good riddance to that thing, anyway. It was way more trouble than it's worth.

He doesn't usually do the random hookup thing, and he's kind of wasted off his ass, so it vaguely surprises him when she suddenly strips off her shirt along with her bra. It clicks with him after a long second. Right, right. He came home with her for a reason. He's here to do stuff. Fuck, and stuff. Tch, fuck yeah, he is. He's an eighteen-year-old virgin who can barely stand without falling over, but he's definitely good to fuck whatsherface. Totally.

One of his hands reaches out for a handful of her breast with probably the least bit of grace possible— because boobs are soft and great, obviously, and also because for some reason she still seems to be into this, and him, despite his graceless tactics. Probably because she's not exactly anywhere close to sober herself. He dips down to mouth at her neck and rolls her nipple under his thumb and she moans loudly, pressing herself into him. The sound seems kind of over the top to Dipper, but what the hell, he'll take it. The front of his pants gets unzipped, and then his jeans are being pulled down to his knees, his underwear soon to follow. A small yelp escapes him when a cool, was-recently-holding-a-cheap-beer hand abruptly cups his junk.

"Shit," he slurs. "Your hands'r cold."

She laughs out a short apology, reeling him in and kissing him fiercely one more time, then drops to her knees. Dipper registers her giving him a quick wink before she grabs on to either side of his hips, catches his cock in her mouth and starts to suck clumsily. He moans out a small curse at the sudden sensation of her mouth on him, his fingers clutching at the edge of the cluttered desk behind him.

Alexa-or-Allie sticks with her signature move, bobbing her head again and again, her long dark hair falling in her face. She moans around him but it's an awkward sound, and for some reason this feels awkward to watch, so Dipper directs his dizzy vision up to where the ceiling meets the wall behind her. He thinks vacantly that the movie she has a poster of taped to her wall was a really stupid movie. His legs feel very unstable beneath him, and he's pretty sure it's not because he's getting his dick sucked. Not that it doesn't feel good, or whatever, like it feels good enough, but he can't seem to keep his head in the moment… maybe his nerve endings are in sleep mode or something. He keeps having to remind himself where he is, keeps having to crush down little warning bells in his brain, keeps thinking about how terrible his stomach feels. Ugh, shouldn't he be overwhelmed with pleasure by now? Or at least be a tiny bit distracted from how shitty he feels? Something? He doesn't have much to compare this with. He's only had someone go down on him one other time, and he was pretty wasted then, too.

He's bad at hook ups, he decides.

"Mm," Alexa-or-Allie moans again, and this one does something for him, making Dipper shiver and sigh. He shifts his jelly legs a bit, wishing he was lying down and not standing up, then lets his head flop forward so he can look at her. At first there are two of her, but then the two images combine into one of a beautiful, dark-haired, dark-eyed stranger in the midst of sucking him off. Oh. Man. That… that is pretty hot, actually. He watches her reach up and tuck some of her jet-black hair behind her ear to get it out of the way, and for some strange reason the way she does it, fingers curled delicately, pinky sticking out, reminds him of the exact way Mabel tucks her own curls behind her ear… Mabel. Damn. He knows he fucked up with his sister earlier on the phone but at the moment he can't for the life of him remember what he said. The shitty feeling in the pit of his stomach grows. He wonders what she's up to right now. He feels that familiar biting ache in his heart that bubbles up every time she pops into his brain and he's forced to remember how much he misses her.

Dipper's eyes shoot open. He cringes deeply, panic rising in his chest, his head banging back against the desk hutch as a self punishment. Okay, _ow_ , that hurt way more than he thought it would, but also, what in the fucking shit. Who ponders over what their sister might be up to while they're getting blown! Seriously, who fucking does that?! God, he has issues.

Somehow he manages to shove all thoughts of Mabel out of his mind, but the panic levels don't stop rising. His breath comes out faster, all the competing sensations happening in his body clashing hard and forming a clusterfuck of anxiety in his chest. Suddenly the rising sensation transforms into something else, something that is definitely _not_ panic. The back of his throat tingles foully, and there's not enough warning for him to even speak, all he can do is lurch to one side and cover his mouth with his hand as his chest heaves—

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Allie-or-Alexa yelps, jerking away from his crotch as he vomits into his hand. His hand obviously isn't going to cut it but he can't stop, the overflow escaping onto his favorite shirt and the desk and the floor.

A small pink trash can gets thrust into his sick-covered hands. "Oh my god, what the fuck! Do it in there!"

Ugh. It won't stop coming. And he can sense her watching him with disgust, can hear her cursing and freaking out to herself as she yanks her shirt back on. Oh god, please, please make it stop. When he's finally able to stop dry heaving he sets down the trash can with shaky hands, nearly falling on his face as he stoops on wobbly legs to pull his pants back up. "Ah, fuh—" he hiccups, "—fuck, Allie, I-I'm-"

"It's Arianna, you asshole," she snaps. The room gets quiet and Dipper's eyes go wide, and as inebriated and sick and out of it as he is, he at least has the decency to also feel like a shithead.

"'M'sorry," he says weakly. There's a pounding in his head. He feels like he might vomit again. He wipes his chin on his shirt, not knowing what else to do as she glares understandable daggers at him. He wilts like a sad, drunk dandelion under her stare, wanting nothing more than to disappear. Or maybe die. That would do the trick as well.

"Unbelievable," she scoffs. "Jus' get the fuck out of here, Dipper. You're a fucking mess."

He nods stupidly, fully in agreement with her, avoiding eye contact as he stumbles for the door, tripping over her laundry basket in the process. "S-sorry. M'reallysorry," he mumbles again, fumbling with the doorknob. She doesn't say anything more as he finally manages to get it open and ducks out of her room.

By some miracle he makes it back to his own dorm in one piece, where he spends half the night curled next to a toilet, emptying his guts out. Eventually he passes out and groggily wakes up to someone knocking on the stall door he's got his face pressed against, the vibration nearly splitting his already pounding head in two.

"Yo, Dip, 'zzat you? You alive, in there?" Myles' halting voice comes through the door, not sounding terribly sober himself.

Dipper can only manage a miserable groan in response.

"Okay, I kn–I knew thosewere your shoes. Okay, Dipper, what the fuck, man. Where did you even go, I looked for you before I left like you made me fucking promise and you were fucking nowhere. Did'joo leave with a girl'ersomethin?"

Dipper lifts his head an inch, opening his eyes just a sliver. One sliver too much. He ends up jerking back towards the toilet, his poor, tuckered out stomach trying to empty itself again, but there's not much in there to purge out. The bag of chips he had for dinner is long gone, nothing left now but alcohol and bile.

"Ah, shhhit." Myles mutters, and knocks again. "Okay, come on man. Lemme in." Dipper doesn't move or speak, breathing heavily, spitting into the bowl a few times. "…Unlock the door, Dipper… come on…" The knocking starts coming louder, slightly more worried. "Jus' unlock the door, and y–I'll help you from there. Oka–Alright?"

Dipper moans again, not unlike a wasted, helpless baby, his head resting limply on his arm against the toilet seat. More goddamn knocking. Just let him die already.

"Dude. I know you can hear me, so, unlock. The fucking. Door. D'you really want fucking _Larry_ to have to find your drunk ass in here in a few hours?"

It's the persistently loud knocking and the bare-bones need for it to _stop_ that gets Dipper to dig deep for the will to move, pitching his upper body up in a ragdoll fashion so he can grope around to get the bathroom door unlatched. As soon as it clicks the door gets pushed open, and then Dipper is looking pathetically up into the wide, slightly disgusted eyes of his roommate, still too fucked up to be ashamed of himself.

"Ffffuck," Myles says, more to himself than to Dipper. His eyeline moves between the front of Dipper's shirt, to the floor, to Dipper's gray face, traces of vomit everywhere. "Fuck, man… Dip too lit." Dipper's face starts to scrunch up, like he might cry, but he dry heaves instead, although luckily nothing comes up this time.

Myles shakes his head. "There is… no way in hell I'm cleaning this up. We're blamin' this on the guys at the end of the hall, that's—the official story," Myles grunts, bending down, hefting a teetering Dipper to his feet. "Oh, it reeks, it _reeeks_ , fuck dude, did you have to go so hard? Oh fuh- holyshit—"

They almost topple over together when Dipper's legs give way and he tries to sink back to the floor like the dead weight he is. He whines softly through his closed lips, his eyes clamped shut, his face pained. Myles lets out an exasperated sigh. "Alright. Come on bro. You gotta—stand— _up—_ Jesus fuck, you'reheavierthanyoulook—Alright. Alright, one foot in front of the other. Theeerrre it is. Okay. You're okay…"

Myles half leads, half drags Dipper back to their room, where he not-so-gently sheds the smaller boy of his vomit clothes. When Dipper is down to his boxers he whimpers and shivers, eyes still squeezed shut, no help in undressing or dressing himself whatsoever. Myles wrestles him into a sweatshirt with a grumble. Next Dipper gets push-pulled into bed, passing out as soon as his heavy head hits the pillow, his limbs flopping as Myles rolls him onto his side. One last tired curse gets uttered before Myles crashes into his own bed, and then, silence.


	11. Spaced Part 3

Spaced (Part 3 of ?)

[Part one] [Part two] [ **Part three** ] [Part the rest unfinished and squashed into one giant post hey its better than nothing]

 _and at any second now i think it all might fall apart,_

' _cause there's a god-awful shitty feeling of dread in my heart, yeah_

Blearily peeling his eyes open the next day is one of Dipper's more regrettable life decisions (one of many), and his eyelids immediately clench shut again. Everything, everything hurts. He breathes out a pained, pitiful sound as he rolls over in bed, his body overcome with the reaped consequences of drinking such a ridiculous amount of alcohol the previous night.

 _Huh. This must be what death feels like,_ he thinks faintly.

"Look at that, the Dip-man liiiives! Didn't think you were gonna move 'til like, tonight."

Myles is talking too loud. Way too loud. Dipper presses a palm to his stabbing forehead, grimacing. "What time is it…?"

Myles tilts his head back to kill off the last of the energy drink in his hand, then tossing the can into the corner of the room. "Almost one. 'Bout to head out to go buy slash chill at Mackenzie's awhile."

Dipper smacks his lips together, his parched mouth tasting like a vomit flavored, dried up wasteland. Holy shit. He's never been this hungover before. He gropes around for the water bottle always kept within reaching distance of his bed, chugging what's left of it in a few desperate gulps. The bottle slips from his grip and onto the floor as he collapses back against his pillow.

"So… hungover," comes his cracked mutter, making Myles chuckle.

"Dude. I'm glad you're awake and alive though, you were pretty gone last night. You owe me for dragging your ass to bed. Clothes you were wearin are in that trash bag by the door by the way, don't throw that one out."

"Ugh, thanks…" Suddenly awareness floods back into Dipper's groggy brain. Harsh, painful, embarrassing awareness. "Oh no. No, no, no… I think I…oh fuck. Yeah, I hooked up with someone last night. Ah, man…"

This gets Myles to stop in the midst of stuffing things into a backpack and look up. "Oho, you don't say! My boy!"

"No no… no no," Dipper grudgingly continues, his voice light and croaky, "no _'my boy's._ This is not a my boy situation." He's forced to pause and fight off the urge to dry heave, a foul sound burping out of his mouth. "Oh god. I think. I might've thrown up," he cringes deeply, "while she was giving me head…"

There's a moment of silence before Myles throws his head back with booming laughter, causing his suffering roommate to wince with pain and embarrassment. "Dipper, no, _nooo,_ you fucking did not!" Dipper moans and presses his face into his pillow, pulling the blanket over his head. "Holy fucking shit, oh my god, did you barf on her, man? You're lucky she didn't bite your dick off!"

"I didn't barf _on_ her, just… near her," Dipper grumbles, voice muffled. He rolls onto his back, pressing a pillow onto his face. "Man, she freaked out though. Fuuuck. Fuck everything, please just kill me. Let me die."

Myles' laughter starts to peter out, his head shaking with amazement. "Hooph, damn, yeah. Just uh… try and sleep that one off, dude. Wow." Dipper lets out another humiliated groan, then feels what's probably a wad of dirty socks bounce off his back— Myles' version of being comforting. "Heyyy, c'mon tiger. You'll get through this. I'll be back tonight, we'll blaze some healing kush, you'll forget all about the bee-jay-gone-sour, it's all good, bro."

A listless grunt sounds off from underneath Dipper's covers and nothing more. He hears Myles rustling around for his shoes and his bag, and then the swish of the door being pulled open.

"Alright you wild party animal, see ya tonight. Feel better!" The door shuts, and the room goes quiet.

Dipper turns his head so that he's facing the wall, tucking his arms in close to his body, huddling into himself. He's exhausted. He feels like ripe shit. He would love nothing more than to go back to being unconscious. But of course, now that he's awake and sobered up, his brain won't allow that so easily. The minutes tick by, the silence only broken by conversations and muffled laughter coming through the thin walls, the muted sound of heavy bass rumbling up through the floor. Goddammit. Who blasts music at noon on a Saturday? His downstairs neighbors, apparently, _every fucking Saturday._

He's desperate for sleep, but none comes. Memories from last night have already begun their journey of slowly wriggling back to him, torturing him, making him curse under his breath and grimace and shove his face into his pillow. One recollection at a time, he gets to remember all the stupid things he said, all the stupid things things he did. And through all those idiotic things said and done, even more so than his disastrous attempt at hooking up while nearly blackout drunk, one event in particular holds the title for making him feel the most terrible. It repeatedly pokes him in the heart, turning his insides even more sour. The collar of shirt finds his way into his mouth as he relives every second of that phone call.

After a few more minutes of mental torment Dipper has a 'fuck it' moment and heaves himself up, spitting out his shirt collar. One hand clumsily feels along the junk on his bedside table for his phone and he prays that he didn't lose it at some point during yesterday's shit of a night. His fingers finally close around the plastic Monstermon phone case and he breathes a sigh of relief, laying back in bed and clicking it on, blurry vision focusing in on the tiny screen.

No new messages. His heart sinks.

Dipper swipes it unlocked, goes straight to his contact favorites, and touches his thumb to Mabel's name. He's already put off fixing this for an extremely douchey amount of time. He brings the phone to his ear, staring blearily at a crack in his ceiling as it rings… and rings… and rings.

Her voicemail message starts to play. Dipper gnaws on the inside of his cheek. Ah, shit. She has every right to not want to talk to him. Man, is he getting good at pushing her away.

"Uh, hey… it's me. Um." He winces at his lame start and closes his eyes. "Listen, Mabel… I'm sorry for hanging up on you yesterday. I didn't mean what I said, I'm just," he sighs, leaning into the hand holding his phone to his ear, "…yeah. Can you please call me back when you get this? …Okay, hopefully talk to you soon… bye."

Carefully, Dipper sets the phone back on the table beside his bed. He pulls the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and hikes his blanket up to his neck, curling up on his side. The self deprecating thoughts float through his mind a little longer before he's finally able to drift off.

He's not out for very long before a series of quick little knocks rouse him from slumber. Dipper barely has any time to inwardly gripe about who the hell could be wanting in to his and Myles' room right now before a familiar voice floats through the door.

"Yo, bro, you decent in there? Can I come in?"

Dipper's bedraggled head shoots up from the pillow, further exacerbating his monster headache. He stays there frozen, propped up on his stomach and elbows for a few seconds before he manages to respond with a hoarse "yeah," and then the door opens a bit, and his sister's head pokes through the gap. On it she wears a red headband with a lightning bolt and the word 'zap!' on one side in bold, pop-art letters, a cupcake sticker stuck to one cheek, and a somewhat apprehensive smile.

"Mabel," he says dumbly, scrambling up from bed. He gets up too fast and has to swallow down the urge to vomit.

"Heyyyy, Dip," Mabel says, giving him a friendly wave. "Long time no see, bro-bro." She steps inside and nudges the door closed behind her, shouldering her pig-themed bag so it slumps down next to the sunny yellow Vans tied to her feet. She tucks a few curls behind her ear in the process, one curved pinky sticking out delicately.

The shame slams into him, squashing out the knee-jerk elation Dipper feels about seeing her. He drops her eyes, running a hand through his hair. "Mabel, you… man, you didn't have to come all the way out here."

Mabel takes a step toward him, a soft look on her face. "Yeah, I kinda did. Plus I wanted to, so there." Then she strides forward and wraps her arms around him, drawing him down into an embrace, holding him tight. "Missed you, goober," she murmurs into his sweatshirt.

"Missed you too," Dipper mumbles, unable to help himself from dropping his forehead onto her shoulder and holding her back just as tightly. She's warm and she smells like cotton candy and it's so fucking good to see her that his body wants to tremble, and moisture is pricking at the corners of his eyes, and he mentally berates himself to keep it together. "…Did you take the bus? At least let me pay for half your ticket."

She doesn't let him go, turning her face towards his neck so he can hear her better. "I caught a ride with a friend, no worries."

"Oh. That works."

"Hm," Mabel hums thoughtfully, breathing in and out. "Oof, woof. You're kinda really really smelly, bro."

"Thanks."

"Kinda greasy too—"

" _Thank you,_ Mabel. I'm aware." Dipper pulls out of the hug, sighing and slouching down to sit on the edge of his bed. He rubs at his eyes with his palms, avoiding her eyes again. "So did you just completely bail on the fundraiser thing you spent all that time organizing?"

"Hey, I didn't _completely_ bail. I'll be there all day tomorrow. My friend's driving back around nine so I actually gotta head back tonight, but I thought maybe we could hang out today, just me 'n you. Go get dinner and see a movie or something…" Mabel trails off, looking him up and down and making a face, "okay but _wowie_ do you look really hungover."

He gives her a half smile, looking out at her from underneath crusty, drooping eyelids. " _That_ , sister, is because I… am really fuckin hungover." He flops back on the bed, pressing his fists into his eyes. "Augh. Remind me to never go near Fireball ever again. Ever… ever… again."

Mabel lets out a giggle, but it's a halfhearted giggle. The bed creaks as she gingerly sits down next to him. Things get quiet, and Dipper suddenly feels afraid to open his eyes. He swallows. "So… did you get my message?"

"Mhm."

"Oh. Okay… good." Slowly, he lets his arms sag down to rest on either side of him, peeking up at his sister. She's gazing around his room, her eyes lingering on the monstrous piles of laundry and full trash bags and empty pizza boxes on the floor. Dipper bites his lip, sighing sadly through his nose. "Seriously though, I'm really sorry, Mabel. I was having a crappy day, and I… I shouldn't've taken it out on you."

She tilts her head to look down at him, her brown eyes shining with sympathy and compassion, which somehow both irritates and soothes him. "It's okay, Dipper. Really. All's forgiven." Now she's the one dropping eye contact. "Um, so… do you maybe want to talk about stuff, or…"

Dipper groans again, tossing an arm across his face. "Augh, Mabel, I know this is probably why you came here, but now's really not the best time, okay? Kinda feel like death at the moment."

"Gotcha, gotcha. That's okay, um… we can talk later." Mabel rubs her arm. "So I guess going to the movies is off the table then, huh."

"Yeah… nooot really feeling up to vomming all over the back of a movie theater seat today." He lets his arm fall away, guilt churning around in his queasy stomach, for a number of reasons. "…Sorry you came all the way here for nothing," he says quietly. Mabel's head jerks back towards him, her eyebrows raising and her eyes narrowing.

"Hey hey hey," she wags a finger at him, "you bite your tongue, lil' broski. I did not come here for nothing. You are not nothing." She moves a hand down to brush his bangs out of his eyes, her fingers caring and gentle. Dipper resists the urge to let his eyelids flutter shut. "It's fine, I don't mind being Nurse Mabel for the day. Nursing my big hungover wiener brother back to life. You got any ibuprofen up in here?"

He grunts, squeezing his eyes closed as his brain pounds ruthlessly away at his skull. "Ugh, I think Myles might have some? But I have no idea where it would be."

Mabel hops off the bed, clapping her hands together. "Ho-kay, game plan. I go out and get a buttload of painkillers and gatorade and greasy food, you get your stanky butt in the shower, we meet back here and feast on cheeseburgers and nap and watch cartoons all day. Deal?"

Dipper laughs, voice rasping, "deal."

"Good. Let's do dis thang." She snaps a pair of fingerguns at him and heads for the door, plucking up her backpack on the way, doing her best to hop around the mess that is the floor of Dipper's dorm room. He sits up to watch her go, his gut filling with something warm and solacing despite how crappy his body feels. Mabel turns around at the door, jabbing a firm finger in his direction, a hoard of homemade beaded bracelets clacking around her wrist. "I mean it mister Fireball. You better be clean and fine-smellin' by the time I get back."

"Yeah, I got it."

Still with the jabbing finger—"Clean. And. Fine-smellin. Like fancy expensive daisies."

"Alright alright, I'm gonna shower, chill." They share a grin. Mabel twists the knob, the smile still on her face as she turns away. She's got one foot out the door when the words spill croakily from Dipper's dry throat.

"Uh, hey. Mabes—"

She looks at him over one shoulder, brown curls bouncing around and wreathing her face. "Yiiiis?"

"I just. Thanks," he mutters awkwardly, rubbing at his shoulder and shrugging. "You know. For coming. It's really good to see you."

Her eyes soften, her glossy lips curving into a wholehearted smile. "Of course, bro. It's really good to see you too." She steps out of the room. "Hang in there, hangover boy. See you in a few."

Mabel power walks herself into the closest convenience store on campus, her eyes blazing with determination, a woman on a mission. She snatches up one of the tiny baskets near the door and starts methodically moving from aisle to aisle, sweeping items into it without a second glance. A bottle of painkillers, the biggest one they have. Two big bottles of gatorade, one fruit punch and one lemon-lime. A jumbo bag of Cheese Doodles, and two packs of Chipackerz, four-cheese and pizza flavored, Dipper's favorites. As a last second thought she tosses a bag of Twizzlers into her basket as well. Also a Dipper favorite. He seems like he could use the extra pick-me-up. He seems like he could use about a hundred extra pick-me-ups.

She hasn't even been in the store four minutes before she's stepping into the checkout line behind a couple of other students—a girl in workout clothes buying a bag of chips and a sandwich and a hungover looking guy in a hoodie with a giant cup of coffee in each hand. Her fingers squeeze hard on the handles of her basket, her shoes tapping back and forth against the floor as she waits.

She tries to calm the fidgety tension that keeps popping up, but ugh, it's hard. Because Mabel is worried. Very, very, worried. Being this worried and trying not to act like it is so much harder than she remembers. Ever since Dipper hung up on her yesterday, she feels like she's been walking on the very edge of a cliff. Unable to concentrate on anyone or anything, hardly able to think of anything else. And being on the edge of this specific cliff, she has to take very, very careful steps. It's just an ominous feeling all around.

She's not sure how bad it is yet, but she hopes to get some answers today. Hearing his trembling voice through the phone, small and hopeless and on the verge of breaking down into tears… it really shook her up. It was like her inner Dipper's-not-okay warning bells going from stable green to code red in one single paralyzing instant. In the past she always had a little more warning than this.

After the line had gone dead, and the cold sting of being yelled at by her brother resided, Mabel had sat on her bed with her forehead resting in her palm, stunned as she realized how little she actually knew about Dipper's life right now. About how he was doing. She'd gone over their last phone call—heck, their last few phone calls— in her head, scouring for clues she might've missed, and came to the stomach-turning conclusion that they'd mostly just talked about stuff going in _her_ life, not his, or stupid stuff, like what crazy thing had happened on the last episode of _The Available Man_ , or whether or not they should drop the cash on a fart machine to activate under Dad's chair in the middle of singing him happy birthday next weekend, or the tattoo she's thinking about getting, or how he should _totally_ try and figure out a way to visit her when she's in London this fall. Looking back, Dipper had flawlessly dodged and pirouetted around every question pertaining to himself. Every single one. And she hadn't even noticed.He'd flipped the conversation back over to something he _knew_ she'd want to talk about, and dangit, she _knows_ him and she knows that wasn't an accident, and _ughhh_ that she didn't see it before!

 _Dangit_ , _Mabel!_ It shouldn't have taken her this long to realize how distant Dipper has been lately. She's supposed to notice these things. She always has before. And that was about the point when she came to the awareness of oh, crap, maybe… maybe so has she. Been sort of distant. Or has probably come off as distant to him, at least. The semester has been busy for her, so crazy-bananas busy, what with rush and class and study abroad applications and friends and former-boyfriends and something going on what seems like every single weekend… so her and Dip haven't been talking as much. More effort could stand to be made on both their parts. And definitely hers.

Ugh, yeah, she can see that now. Standing here alone in this convenience store checkout line behind this smelly guy in a hoodie who she _really_ wishes would dig change out of his pocket a _little_ flippin' faster, she can see that now. And _that_ fills her tummy with an ugly, churning emotion that starts with a big fat 'G.'

Okay, to get one thing straight, guilt is _not_ the reason why she came here today. It's not the reason she spent a good few hours yesterday texting everyone she knew who had a car, pretty much begging for a ride to Dipper's school, and it's not the reason she's now going to spend her whole Saturday taking care of him.

But the guilt is still there, simmering in the depths of Mabel's chest, because she should've known. She should've _known_. When Dipper feels neglected, he doesn't say a word about it to your face. He just accepts it and lets himself slip sadly under your radar, like a big lame ball of accepting sadness, and the more she goes over things in her head, the more she worries that that is exactly what happened. When was the last time they skyped? Jeez, It was some point when she was still dating Zaid. She remembers because Zaid had showed up unannounced at her dorm halfway through their call, which led to her cutting out a little early and promising Dip that they'd talk twice as long the next week. Ugh! Why does like, _every_ single Dipper-related recollection from the past few months make her feel so gross!

And now, he might be in trouble. It might've gotten bad again, _bad_ -bad. And where was she? The person who's supposed to be, who's always _been_ his back-up when his head checks out and wanders off into sad, bad, terrible places? Dipper's head does that, Mabel! Just because it hasn't in awhile, just because you don't see him every day anymore, just because the warning signs are no longer right in front of your face, doesn't mean it doesn't!

Mabel finally makes it to the counter, paying for her things without her usual amount of cheery banter with the checkout clerk (she does at least mention that she likes the lady's earrings). She makes her way quickly to her next stop, one of the many food joints around the campus of this oh-so-coveted university. She picks up a large order of fries for them to share along with two cheeseburgers, (no tomatoes on hers, no pickles on Dipper's), grabs a butt-ton of ketchup packets, and then starts to hurry back to the dorm, eager to get back. That's all her mind seems to want to think since that phone call. Get to Dipper, Dipper needs me, gotta get to Dipper, gotta get back to Dipper.

Gosh. That phone call, though. She's just… walking the edge of that cliff, and at the end of the path is her twin, and she has to _get to him_ , but she's gotta be careful, careful, careful.

She can't be totally sure how bad it is yet. Even when she did live with him, her brother has always been sort of an emotionally constipated person, he doesn't just come right out and say things. But it's been _bad_ before, and the warning signs she's seen so far, just from the call yesterday… from the desolate tone of his voice in that message he left, to sitting with him in his room for all of ten minutes… it has her worried. Very worried.

If she had known…

Blah. No sense dwelling on what she hasn't done. Gotta focus on what she can do for him now. Operation help-the-bro-bro has officially commenced. Today Mabel can feed him Twizzlers and fries and medicine and scratch his back while he lays in her lap with a cheesy Sci-Fi monster movie playing. And then maybe she'll fit an apology somewhere in there, although she's not sure how she would word it. And also maybe get some answers… about stuff he's always had a hard time talking about directly… _totally_ gonna be a breeze… and then they can go from there? Yeah?

Mabel clutches the plastic handles of her bags full of food tighter, taking longer strides, hurrying around slow walkers on the sidewalks. When she eases back into his room with plastic bags in hand, making sure to open and shut the door quietly, she finds Dipper laying in bed. He's right back in the same hoodie she left him in, but now he's wearing sweatpants and the curls hanging in his eyes are damp. His eyes open sluggishly and he greets her with a grunt.

"I come bearing gifts," Mabel offers with a smile, making her way over to him. She sets the bags on top of the clutter piles of his desk.

"Nnh. I don't feel good," Dipper mumbles into his pillow.

"Mm. Still having tum-trouble?"

"…I might've thrown up a little in the shower."

"Ooh. Yeah, that's not good." Mabel digs around through the bags, extracting a couple of pills and holding them out to him along with his water bottle. "Here. Put these in your face. Trust me, I'm a _doctor_."

He gives her a tired smile as he takes the pills and lifts them into his mouth, following with a gulp of water. "I thought you were a nurse."

"I'm both."

"That's a lot of medical school," Dipper says sleepily, closing his eyes again. "I'm impressed."

"Yeah, well, I'm very dedicated." Mabel sits down at the edge of the bed to start running her nails back and forth between his shoulder blades over his sweatshirt. He looks a little thinner than when she last saw him, she can't help but notice. "You think you can eat?" A grunt. "I got you Twizzzzlersss…"

"Ahh. You're the best," he keeps on with that same sleepy monotone, humming gratefully when she digs her thumb gently into a knot in his back. "I don't think I can do Twizzlers right now, but you're the best. And I missed you."

"I missed you too," Mabel giggles. "How bout a boy-guh, can you do a boy-guh? A juicy cheese-boy-guh? Gotta soak up all that alcohol somehow, bro."

"Yeah, I think I could swing that." Again, she can see Dipper's lips pulling back into a little smile. His face looks so tired and dreary, but at least she's been able to get him smiling. Inducing Dipper smiles—a Mabel specialty.

Dipper crawls towards the wall to make a spot for her on his bed, Mabel doles out the food and drink, and the twins sit together scrolling through Netflix, gearing up for a lazy afternoon.

She doesn't know how the day gets away from her, but it does. Every time Mabel thinks she might _finally_ have the mental courage to approach certain subjects head-on, she looks over to find that Dipper has fallen back asleep, looking cute and peaceful despite the fact that he's drooling on her shoulder. Or his stomach decides to be a butt all of a sudden and he has to make a break for the bathroom. Or they're at a really good part in the movie they're watching, or the mood feels so lighthearted and normal between them that she doesn't have the heart to break it with the heavy stuff.

It is definitely much easier to stuff Twizzlers up your nose, talk in your notorious Mr. Upsidedownington voice and make your brother laugh than it is to ask him if his depression has been acting up. There's no denying that one.

Before Mabel knows it, it's past eight and dark outside, and they're five episodes deep into a _Tigerfist_ mini-marathon, already having watched a couple of their all time shared favorite movies. So she hasn't gotten any actual answers yet… at least Dipper seems to be in a better mood. This was Operation Help-The-Bro-Bro-Feel-Better first and foremost, right?

But the more time that passes, the stuffier the air has felt for her, the faster her heart seems to beat. At this point her insides feel like they're going a little crazy, the worry from the past 24 hours taking its toll. Clearly, he's not going to bring anything up himself. He's not going to want to talk. But this is eating away at her…

Mabel turns to look down at the top of Dipper's curly brown head where it rests sleepily against her arm. _Come on, Mabel. Just gotta suck it up and say something._

Of course, as soon as she arranges what she wants to say first in her head and takes in a breath, the door busts open and in walks Dipper's roommate. Aw, farts.

"What up, Dip—no wayyy, it's the twin sister!" Myles exclaims, his voice smokey and dragging and over-the-top cheerful. Mabel quickly puts on a happy face and grins, baring all her teeth and waving excitedly with both hands, the action jostling Dipper where he slumps next to her. Myles laughs, letting his bag drop to the floor and pushing the door shut with his foot. "Damn, where you been all my life Mabel, it's been forever! Shiiit, I forgot how much you guys look alike."

"Ah, I been around, you know. This semester's been busy." She swipes the bag of Cheese Doodles from Dipper's hands to stuff some in her mouth. "How'aff you been Mylesh?" Cheese crumbs spray onto Dipper's keyboard, prompting him to grumble and spitefully brush them off.

"I been good, I been good…" Myles grabs a bag of chips off his desk and tears them open, plopping himself down in his desk chair facing the twins, a big, baked smile on his face. "Man, you two are fuckin' adorable," he says, stuffing chips in his face and chewing loudly. "Look at you. You have like, matching faces."

Mabel snorts and giggles. Dipper's eternally bugged out roomie is nothing if not fun to indulge. She sidles closer to her brother and presses her smooth right cheek to Dipper's scratchy left, batting her eyelashes and drawing imaginary circles around their faces. "It's true, you can't get any more adorable than this pair of twinsies. Although I dunno about the matching faces thing. I wanna say alpha twin's got the edge on cuter twin award, today at least."

Dipper makes a noise of disbelief, tilting his head to grace her with his most affronted expression of faux-betrayal. "Oh, cold."

"What, I'm not the one who had to wash throw up out of my facial hair earlier."

"I resent that."

Myles cuts in, waving a hand around. "Dipper, man, no offense, but there's no contest here. Let's be real." He quirks an eyebrow at Mabel, shooting her a crooked smile. "Your sis is like… the hot girl version of you. But… you're not the hot guy version of her? Woah. That is fucking wild."

His eyes bulge and he acts out the mind blown gesture, complete with exploding sound effects. Mabel is overcome with Cheese Doodle spray-giggles while Dipper's face falls into a frown, his eyes flicking back and forth between Myles and Mabel. "Okay, that's enough. New topic please."

"Just spittin' truth, my friend." Myles shrugs and leans back in his chair, still crunching obnoxiously on salt and vinegar chips, still with the giant, dreamy grin on his face. "So you guys just been chillin' out here all day or what?"

Mabel nods. "Pretty much. Dips over here is still in recovery mode." Dipper grunts his agreement, stealing back the cheese doodles and munching absentmindedly, his head still leaning against her upper arm and his drooping eyes fixed back on the screen in her lap.

"Yeah, I don't doubt it. This crazy kid had a hell of a night last night, didn't you, Dipper?" A cackle bursts from Myles' crumb-covered mouth. Dipper's head lifts a few inches, his face going pale. "Oooh my god, though. Twin sister, tell me he filled you in on all that wild 'n crazy fun he had."

"Have not heard about the wild crazy fun yet, actually. Dipper, why you no tell me about wild crazy fun?" Mabel laughs and looks expectantly at Dipper, but he's busy glaring over at Myles, his face a shade redder than it was a minute ago.

"Dude," Dipper mutters in a warning tone, hissing the word through his teeth.

"What? Oh come on, it's a funny story."

"What's a funny story?" Feeling very much left out, Mabel looks between her brother and his roommate, who are locked in a half pissed, half tickled-pink stare down. "Booo. Come on guys, don't leave me hangin! Gimme the deets!"

"Do _not_ ," Dipper spits the words viciously just as the taller boy excitedly opens his mouth, and both Myles and Mabel make dramatic disappointed sounds. Mabel elbows her twin good naturedly, who no longer slumps lazily against her, but sits straight up, his back stiff as a board.

"Aw, come on Dippity-dawg, don't be a grumpus. It's just a-me, a-Mabel, I ain't gonna judge."

"Yeah Dippity-dawg, she ain't gonna judge, don't be such a fuckin' grumpus," Myles repeats, looking on the verge of exploding with mad giggles.

Dipper shoots Mabel one of his 'you're supposed to be on _my_ side' looks and opens his mouth, probably to tell her to let it go, but only manages to get out the first syllable of her name before Myles finally cracks, shaking with high-pitched laughter.

"L-last night—grumpus over here blew chunks—while some chick was like, mid-blowing him," he giggles, banging a fist against his desk, "and she," Myles can barely get the words out, he's laughing so hard, "she lost her goddamn shit at him! Can someone say hookup of the week awarrrd, ow ow!"

Mabel's eyebrows skyrocket. "Oh. Wow."

Suddenly out of things to say, she blinks, heat trickling into her cheeks. Myles claps his hands together, somehow taking Mabel's blank reaction as something more like amusement. "I know right! _This_ crazy mother fucker right here—"

"Dude! What the hell!" Dipper sputters, throwing his hands in the air, his face now positively puce. "Why the fuck are you telling this story to my _sister?"_

Myles lifts his hands in surrender, clearly too out of it to be the least bit sorry, but apologizes anyway. "Damn, sorry man, it's just funny as hell is all! I mean it's funny, right?" Myles looks to Mabel for back up, and she shrinks in the sudden spotlight _really_ wishing she hadn't pushed the issue, because now all sorts of awkward images are popping into her head. Images she'd never thought about before and would really rather not start picturing now. _Dang it Mabel! This is why we don't push!_

She shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Uh, kinda! I mean it's all good, haha, you know, these things happen to the best of us…"

Mabel's sentence trails off and her eyes shift over to where her brother sits hunched over, face-in-hands, and she hears him whine a quiet, mortified sound into his palms. Her features wilt. Aw, man. Stupid Myles, waltzing in here and throwing her help-the-bro-bro-feel-better plan for a loop at the last second!

She reaches out to him tentatively, trying hard to tune out the ruthless background giggles. "Hey, bro, really, it's no big deal. I'm not—" As soon as her hand touches his shoulder Dipper flinches away, avoiding her eyes as he cuts her off.

"Ugh, can we just— can we not, guys? All I wanna do is forget about yesterday, and neither of you are making that very easy right now, so can we fucking not, please? I… sorry, if I sound pissy or whatever, but like… come on."

Myles finally knocks it off with the obnoxious laughter, while Mabel's eyes fall to the tightly clasped hands in her lap. With slumped shoulders, Dipper takes a deep breath, tiredly rubbing at his eyes, and no one says anything for a good eight seconds.

"Sorry man, didn't mean to push your buttons there," Myles breaks the semi-weird silence. "I was just playin, nobody in this room's actually judging you for your awkward hookup stories. I mean we all got 'em, amiright?" _Again_ he looks to Mabel for back up, who cringes with an immediate oh-jeez-whatever-you're-about-to-say-please-don't face. Myles doesn't take the hint. "Mabel quick, bad sex story, go! Even the playing field a little, c'mon, you got this."

Mabel stares at him, frowning a little and willing herself to stop blushing. This should not be this awkward, what the heck. "Uhhm—"

Dipper holds a hand near her face before Mabel can even offer up her prepared 'no thank you,' pinching the bridge of his nose with his other hand. He shakes his head, looking a little pink in the cheeks himself, still avoiding looking directly at her. "Please do me a favor and do not answer that." Once again he fixes on his roommate with a stinging glare. "Myles, can you not be an ass while Mabel's here? Quit while you're ahead, oh my god."

"Sorry, nah you right, my bad guys. I got a sister too, I know sibs don't wanna hear that shit about their sibs. Ahahaa, my bad, my bad." He smiles a dreamy smile. "You gotta excuse me, I'm pretty fuckin blazed right now."

"Yeahh. We can see that," Dipper gives Mabel an annoyed, knowing look out of the corner of his eye, and she grins back at him, shaking her head _,_ just happy he's looking her in the eye again.

Myles tears open another bag of chips, this time dill pickle flavored. The smell of processed pickles quickly wafts over to where the twins sit. "Shit," Dipper lurches forward, one arm cradling his middle, face crumpling like he's going to be sick. Mabel reacts fast, laying a concerned hand on his back.

"Dang, is it still not over?"

"I thought I was done-" Dipper's words come out strained. "Yup, nope—Idon'tthinkI'mdone. Shit—" A dry heave puts the brakes on whatever else he was gonna say and he keels out of bed and half hobbles, half runs out of the room without another word.

Mabel considers going after him, but stops halfway through scooting off the bed. She glances at Myles across the room, who now sits stretched out on his bed, obliviously munching away on pickle flavored chips.

 _Okay Mabel, now's your chance to get some answers. Be cool. Be the cool cat you are. You got this._

"Hoo boy," she says, waiting until Myles looks over at her before she shakes her thumb in the direction of the doorway. "Sooo, this doesn't happen too super often, does it?"

"What, Dipper getting blasted? Nahhh, not that I know of. He's more into the green these days." Myles points a friendly, crumb covered finger her way. "Turns out'cher brother is a pretty chill dude."

 _Weeeell, yes and no,_ Mabel thinks. She nods casually, starting to play with her sleeves. "Green as in four-twenty blaze it, right?" She laughs weakly. Myles grins.

"The one and very same, twin sister."

Mabel scrambles to put words in the right order in her head, carefully, making sure they leave her mouth cool and copacetic. "That's cool, so you and Dip smoke together more often, then? Gettin' in some quality roomie-bonding time?"

"Yup, pretty much every day," Myles says, slouching back in his bed, pulling his laptop onto his stomach. "Half the time he's the one asking me to smoke, it's been quite the turnaround."

Myles chuckles easily, while Mabel has to force it.

 _Every day?_

Dipper told her that he and Myles were on better terms now, but apparently she didn't know the full extent of what _that_ meant. Mabel tries not to let her face reflect the sinking feeling in her tummy, even though Myles looks pretty zoned out over there, now playing music and focused on his computer.

"IIII'm gonna go make sure Dipper's okay," she says, sliding off of the bed. She stuffs her feet in her shoes and heads for the door, Myles grunting his acknowledgement without looking up.

Out in the hallway, Mabel walks slowly in the direction of the boy's bathroom. Once she makes it there she leans against the opposite wall, holding one of her curls in her mouth. A few guys walk out of a room a few doors down, looking at her as they pass, but she barely even notices them. She's too busy staring off into space, chewing anxiously on her hair, waiting for Dipper to come out of the bathroom. Trying to figure out what to say to him when he comes out.

It's just… it's _just_ … man. She used to think she knew almost everything about the life-and-times of her sweet nerd of a brother, and now it's obvious that she doesn't. And that's doing things to her heart. Sad things.

Dipper's a pretty private person, so over the years Mabel came to feel sort of privileged to be the one person he would continually share stuff with. Now he's got this whole secretive-college-Dipper thing going on, where he does things like fail to mention to her that he's become kind of a class-skippin' stoner guy. Like, what the heck? That's not the Dipper she was so sure that she knew. And he doesn't seem to be very willing to share much about his new, er, lifestyle. Not only does Mabel have a bad, sinking feeling about all of this, but _ouch_ , feeling like she doesn't know her brother anymore really hurts her heart. She used to be his numero uno. Is she still? She's been so wrapped up in stupid school stuff that she's been kinda neglecting her numero uno position. Has the position been filled by someone else? By Myles maybe, his new number one smoking buddy or whatever?

And then there's the other part of 'Dipper's secret life' she's kinda-sorta dwelling on. The getting-super-drunk-and-gettin-with-ladies thing. A flash of the uncomfortable images from before pop into her brain again, and Mabel's left eye twitches. "Get _out_ ," she grumbles under her breath, lightly bumping a fist against the side of her head, willing her thoughts to go in _any_ other direction. Really, she'll take anything. Okay, thinking about kittens now. There we go. Kittens dressed as celebrities. Even better.

Unfortunately the kitten images fade fast, leaving her brain right where it was before. Mabel sighs, crossing her arms and frowning down at the dingy tile floor. It's annoying, how annoyed by this she feels. Blargh. It's not as if she thought Dipper was never hooking up, but…well, she supposes she was never really thinking about the opposite, either. It's not the sort of thing sisters think about. Or like to think about. And like… he's her baby bro-bro, and he's obviously not in a good place right now, and the thought of sad-'n-drunk Dip being um, yeah, by some girl who doesn't even know him, is… it's… it just doesn't seem like what he needs right now, okay?

Not that she's claiming to know what he needs in… that life department… ugh.

Mabel scuffs her shoe along the floor, spitting out her hair.

Other life departments, though. There's so much she doesn't know. Ugh, she should know these things! She's known about Dipper's tendency to withdraw as long as she's known Dipper, and she still let him get away from her.

She wraps her arms around herself.

 _Yeah, that's a big friggin' oops, Mabel._

The sound of a toilet flushing comes through the wall across from her. A few more minutes pass before Dipper finally trudges from the bathroom, no longer wearing the University sweatshirt he's had on all day, instead carrying it bunched up in a fist at his side. He sees her standing there hugging herself and raises his eyebrows in a silent 'what's up.'

The first thing Mabel notices is that the fabric of his balled up hoodie is damp, and her eyebrows lower with sympathy — he must've not totally made it to the toilet in time, poor Dip. She starts to ask how he's feeling, but then notices a second thing, and her heart stops, the question dying in her throat.

Oh. Oh god, no.

Dipper must've noticed her freeze, and he follows her eyeline down and back up and connects the dots, stopping in his tracks. The rest of the color leaves his already pallid face.

Mabel knows she's staring pretty obviously at his arms, but she can't bring herself to look away at first, reflexively trying to assess the damage from where she stands across the hall. Her gaze jumps from each thin, pink sliver to the next. Some on his right arm but mostly on his left, scattered here and there, from just below his wrist to one that disappears into the sleeve of his t-shirt.

There aren't very many of them. But there are definitely enough to have her eyes welling up. Mabel blinks furiously, stunned at this abrupt answer to the question she's been asking herself all day, willing herself not to just start crying. That would only make him mad. Her lips purse, and she looks at him then, looks at him so hard that he can't look away, even though he clearly wants to.

 _No, no, no._

Dipper speaks first, his voice small and scared and defeated. "Not… not now, Mabel. Please."

"Dipper—" she tries, but nope, voice not good to talk yet without tears getting involved, abort, abort mission. Her lips go back to being tightly pressed together.

"Please. I'm serious, I'm really not up for this right now."

She shakes her head fiercely, her mouth wobbling a little, managing to squeak out, "no, now."

His face darkens. "Mabel, listen to me. I said I'm not doing this."

"…But you're cutting yourself," she weakly forces out the words, thick and caustic on her tongue, and hearing them aloud causes a tear to break free. It slides halfway down her cheek before she smears it away.

" _I didn't—"_ Dipper starts too loudly, too defensively, and his mouth snaps shut, his ears pink and getting redder by the second. He gives the empty hallway around them an anxious once-over as he steps closer, lowering his voice to a flat mumble. "I didn't cut myself, okay? They're— scratches. Just superficial crap. It's fine."

Mabel's brow crinkles. She shakes her head slowly, staring at him in teary-eyed confusion. She's trying hard to understand why he keeps lying to her, why the heck he keeps insisting everything's fine when it's so obviously _not_ fine, not even a little bit fine, but no dawning moment of understanding comes. The questions just keep piling on. How did this happen, how did this get so bad without her knowing about it? Why does he hide so many things from her now? Is this what them growing apart looks like? Is this partly her fault?

Dipper rubs his neck and continues, only because he's never been good at handling loaded silences between them. "Look, I don't… I don't mean to do it, okay? It's like- a reflex, I don't know. It doesn't register that I'm doing it until it's already done. And… I mean, like I said, it's superficial stuff, it's not like I'm like, bleeding everywhere, or something…"

If he's saying this stuff to try and make her feel better, it's not working. Dipper visibly shrivels under her pleading stare, his tone growing higher, more and more defensive. "Mabel, would you — ugh. Would you stop looking at me like that? I don't know what you want me to say. I'm not cutting and I'm not trying to kill myself. Is that what you wanna hear? 'Cause if it is, I'm not, so, there you go. Now can you please just—" his voice has gotten so quiet, it sounds on the verge of tapering off. His head sinks, a hand running up the side of his dejected face, "can you please stop looking at me like that? …God, Mabel. What do you want from me?"

He doesn't look back up. Mabel stands there, taking in the image of her brother standing limply in front of her, head hanging, face crumpled. He looks… broken. It's been a long time since he's let himself look like this in front of her, and her insides feel like they're trembling, her heart caught in her throat. It was never easy to see him like this. It's not any easier now.

There's so much she wants to say. So much she wants to ask him, so much she wants to do for him. She'd do anything for him, if only he'd just let her, just tell her what's going on inside his head.

But for his sake, for now Mabel only takes a breath and shuffles forward, carefully putting her arms around him, her head laying on his shoulder. Dipper goes stiff in her arms, but she doesn't let go.

"I'm sorry," Mabel whispers, her rosy cheek squishing against his collarbone, her headband falling crooked. "I just want you to be okay."

Dipper doesn't respond right away. She feels him exhale heavily in her embrace. "I know you do, Mabes," is all he ends up saying, sounding like all the life has been sucked out of him. Another thick tear rolls out of the corner of her eye and disappears into his shirt. She wonders if he felt it, because his hands finally lift to return the hug, slowly patting her back a few times.

Soon her phone begins to chirp and buzz in her pocket. She ignores it. The high pitched, pretty annoying-when-heard-repeatedly Sailor Moon-themed text tone goes off again and again, but Mabel doesn't move, just keeps her arms locked around her brother. Finally it starts to ring, a happy, jolly, 8-bit tune, but she doesn't move to pick it up, only burrows her face further against his shirt.

Dipper shifts in her grasp when it stops ringing, his arms awkwardly falling to his sides. "Um, I think that was your ride."

Mabel makes a small noise, holding onto him tighter.

"Mabel, they're gonna leave without you. You gotta go."

"Uh-uh," she murmurs. "Can't leave. Can't stop hugging the bro. Gotta hug the bro."

"Mabel, come on…" Dipper trails off. Her phone chirps for the jillionth time with that ironically cheery sound, and he makes a low, chagrined sound in his throat, finding his voice again. "Okay, look, I… we can talk more about this later, I guess. But right now you… c'mon, you gotta let go of me."

"You promise?"

There's a beat of hesitation that doesn't go unnoticed by Mabel. "Yeah, fine. I promise."

It's a lackluster promise, but it's all she's going to get out of him. She lets another good few seconds pass, then sniffs and pulls away, wiping at her eyes.

After Mabel retrieves her stuff, Dipper walks her down the two flights of steps and out of the front double doors of Wampler Hall, where a car with the engine running waits for her out on the street. She gets the urge to take Dipper's hand at multiple points during the walk, but his hands are deep in the pockets of his sweatpants, and they haven't done the hand holding thing in a long time anyway, so the urge gets stamped down each time.

When they arrive at the car, Mabel throws her arms around his neck, unable to help herself. Dipper hugs her back much more willingly this time, his head leaning gently against hers. Mabel breathes in the scent of his bodywash and that classic Dipper-smell on his clothes and is struck with another deep, resounding compulsion of not wanting to leave him, or even let go of him, ever ever ever. She bites her lip and shakes it off.

As they exchange goodbyes she makes him promise her a second thing–if he would please answer his phone whenever she calls, because she will be calling. He stiffens a little, but softly agrees, sounding too tired to put up a fight about it.

Mabel pecks him on the cheek before finally stepping away and getting in the car. Her friend Chris, a junior she met through her art frat, greets her from the driver's seat, and she feels herself smiling at him and hears herself apologize for taking so long. She turns to wave at Dipper through the window, who gives a little wave back, wearing a smile that doesn't meet his eyes.

The car starts, and then Mabel is driving away from him, Chris striking up a light conversation about stuff going on this weekend, parties, the fundraiser, this and that. Chris' voice sounds far away in her ears. So does her own as she musters up pretending-to-listen responses, her eyes fixed on the passenger side mirror. She stares as the image of her brother—alone under the orange glow of a streetlight, hands in his pockets—becomes smaller and smaller until Chris finally makes a right turn and Dipper is gone.


	12. Spaced Part The Rest

**Spaced (Part the rest)**

[Part one] [Part two] [Part three] [Part the rest unfinished and squashed into one giant post hey its better than nothing]

 _hey hey hey, my my i did my best, welp,_

 _sometimes things don't get finished, this isn't a real song hey hey_

so i kept my notes in here and bolded them for scene setting and gap filling purposes, and tried to make them more readable haha… it literally starts with notes, what are ya gonna do. this is rough and unfinished and long, there are still a lot of things missing and there is a lot of jumping around. but i kinda reached my writing limit for this story a while back. still like it enough to post it though so there's that!

this was supposed to be a sloooow burn pinecest story so compared to the other parts this goes from 0 to incesty in 3.5. and is significantly less angsty because i spent too much time writing them doin it in the woods and didn't totally resolve other things. nice. also, on that note, this heap of words is very much **NSFW** , so uh. as i once said several years ago… happy reading, enjoy ya incest

 **#Dip has kinda been consuming Mabel's thoughts. Hard for her to concentrate in school. She's called him a lot the following week, and manages to at least get out of him how dire his school/grades situation is. plan to tell parents this weekend at home**

 **#home for dad's birthday dinner. Light small talk pines fam dinner table. mabel glances at dip a lot. he doesn't speak much. they sing happy birthday to their dad and dip slips away after dinner. she looks for him in his room. picks up a framed photo on his bedside table from when they were 12, and touches his grinning, happy face through the glass. sits down on his bed. looks around the room. Gets nostalgic. Thinks of how bad things got after that summer.**

Ugh. Things were so much easier back then. Why did growing up have to be so hard?

She finds him in their old treehouse. None of the furniture is still there. He sits in the corner furthest from the lone window, with his legs spread out before him on the dirty, leaf covered floor. Next to him is a half empty bottle of vodka that he must've swiped from their parents' liquor cabinet. His forearms are covered in fresh scratches and pinches. Her heart sinks.

 _Oh, Dipper…_

He doesn't even seem to notice that she's there. She knocks on the doorframe to let him onto her presence, and when he glances up at her she swears she can see him trying to shrink back into the wood.

 **#comes and sits down next to him. Dipper tries to be discreet about rolling the sleeves of his hoodie back down while Mabel tries to be discreet about setting the vodka away from him. She moves closer, rests her head on his shoulder, and waits.**

"I-I couldn't tell them." He sniffs.

"It's okay. You don't have to, yet."

"But I'm failing almost all my classes," he says, voice high and breaking. "That they're paying for."

"You can still turn it around, Dip. There's still like a month left in the semester. There's still finals. You can talk to your professors about the problems you've been having. They might be more understanding than you think."

"I'm about to lose my internship. I missed too many days."

"There'll be other internships, Dipper. This one one won't make or break you, okay?"

"No grad school will ever accept–"

Mabel grips his shoulder gently. "Hey. Forget about grad school for a second. Just focus on right now, okay? Focus on finishing strong in the classes you're in now."

She can see his eyes welling up again. He's definitely a little drunk. " _How_ , Mabel. I've already fucked up so badly."

Her arms wrap around him, and he leans into her, his head burrowing against her shoulder. "I'll help you. We'll make a game plan."

He shakes his head. "You don't get it. It's not like I can just… I can't just… I can't," he chokes out, in that same breaking tone that leaves the phrase _"what do you want from me, Mabel,"_ echoing faintly in her ears, quiet and broken. _Hopeless_. God. He really believes what he's been telling himself. He really believes it this time. The knot in her chest tightens.

"Uh uh. You can," she says, her voice thick. "You can, Dipper. I know… I mean, I've seen what you're capable of, firsthand, on like a million different occasions. Holy crap man, what you've overcome… like, _school?_ School ain't got nothin' on you. School is _not_ going to be the thing that breaks you. Not on Mabel's watch." She pulls him closer, letting her fingers drift through his hair. "You just… need a little help. Your brain has been bein' a royal butt-turd to you again, and now you need some assistance out of the crapshoot. No shame in that. Everybody needs help sometimes."

He's crying. She can feel it in the way his body is shaking, can hear it in the sniffling he's trying and failing to hide. Mabel feels her throat tighten, and wills herself not to start crying too. Dipper doesn't cry in front of her very often.

She continues to stroke his hair, nighttime sounds from outside the treehouse filling the silence. She mulls the words over in her head for a long time before she takes a silent breath and says them. "…Do you think you could start talking to someone again? Like you did when we were younger?"

Dipper's body tenses in her lap. "…The school therapist is a pretentious asshat," he mumbles finally, neither agreeing nor disagreeing to anything.

"Then I'll find you someone else. And maybe you could try going back on those anxiety meds you used to take. They used to help you a lot, remember?"

He grunts noncommittally, clearly uneasy about the idea.

"Please, Dipper. For me?"

 _Y'know, so you can at least feel like you can breathe again?_

"I guess," he mumbles, sitting up and looking away from her, sniffing thickly, his hands limp at his sides on the dusty wood floor where they peek out of his hoodie.

It's the best she's going to get for now, and she knows it. Mabel chews her lip slowly, watching Dipper's profile, her eyes traveling from his averted eye to the tear stains trailing down his pink cheek, to his scruff of a beard, down his neck, down the sleeve of his old high school debate team sweatshirt, until they're resting on his hand. Before she can stop herself Mabel takes his hand in hers and turns it so it's facing palm up. Carefully, she pushes up his sleeve a tiny bit, her thumb starting to trail softly over a newer scratch that starts in the middle of his wrist. Dipper flinches.

"Don't," he says, eyes fixed on a hole in his jeans.

Mabel swallows hard, her throat hurting so much from holding in a huge sob that it's giving her a headache. He still won't look at her.

"Hey, bro… I'm here," she whispers, not knowing what else to say.

"I know," he says, voice thick and wispy. "It's just b-" Dipper chokes on the word and has to take a breath. "It's just been really h-hard without you."

He's never said anything like that to her before. Not like that, not the way he means it now. A tear escapes, slipping down the side of Mabel's cheek. She pulls her brother's stiff, trembling body back into her arms, holding him tight. "I'm here, Dipper. I'm so sorry if I ever made you feel like I wasn't. But I'm here for you, okay? Always."

Dipper doesn't respond, but he does nod lethargically and she finally feels him relax into her hold, his body deflating. She strokes his hair some more, more tears leaking from her eyes. His words play on repeat in her ears. He needed her. He needed her, and she wasn't there.

She is never going to let that happen again.

"I'm so tired," Dipper murmurs, breaking the silence.

Mabel slips her hand into his and squeezes. "I know, bro. Come on, let's get you to bed."

"So, Dipper. Tell me why you're here."

Dipper sighs and scratches at his beard, shifting a bit in his seat on one side of the sofa, tired eyes absentmindedly lingering on a framed Emerson poem on the wall. "I dunno… I want to feel less shitty, I guess."

The woman sitting in the chair across from him smiles gently. "You don't seem too keen on being here."

"No… not really. I've tried the therapy thing multiple times in the past, and it never really… yeah. Never really clicked."

"Oh? Then what brought you here today? Something change your mind about giving therapy another try?"

Dipper leans forward to rest his forearms on his legs, playing with his hands. "Mostly I'm just here because of my sister. She asked me to give it another shot."

"She must be very important to you, if you're willing to be here for her."

"Yeah."

She smiles. "Older or younger?"

"Twin, actually." Dipper quirks a smile back. "But she's five minutes older, if you want to get technical."

"You don't say? I've got an older brother myself. We have a thirteen year age difference, so we didn't really have much of a relationship until I hit college." She cocks her head at him, her eyes ever-friendly and warm. "That something, though. Must've been interesting, growing up with a twin."

Dipper laughs. "Uhh, that's one word for it."

"You'll have to let me in on some fun twin stories when we inevitably go down the 'tell me about your childhood' route."

He grins. This lady isn't half bad, as far as first impressions go. "Well, I got plenty of 'em, so."

"What's her name?"

"My sister? Her name is Mabel."

"Oh, that's a solid name. Mabel and Dipper. I like it."

Dipper says nothing, just stares at the carpet near his feet, wearing a small smile.

"Alright, so you're mostly doing this for Mabel, and you're here, so you've already met that goal. And that makes almost everything you get out of being here more like a bonus, right?"

"I guess so."

"Nice. Takes some of the pressure off us, you know?"

Dipper finds himself laughing again. "True."

"So let's talk, then." She crosses her legs, the clipboard shifting in her lap. "You said you want to feel less shitty. What's got you feeling shitty?"

Dipper takes in a breath, then opens his mouth.

 **#Mabel picks him up from therapy**

 **they go to a diner**

 **go over their checklist and Mabel Mabel-fied with glitter and stickers and drawings 'Dipper's totally legit plan to get his life together'**

 **-talk about summer classes, reminisce some?**

 **-mabel holds dipper's hand across the table and he finds himself thinking that he doesn't want her to let go.**

 **LATER AND STUFF**

 **-dipper is back on meds.**

 **-after he finishes his summer classes (with mabel's help and encouragement) they go to the beach with their parents**

 **-bury little cousin into a sand castle. dipper gives him a piggy back ride into the water, they swing the kid back and forth. overhear aunt talking about how great he and mabel are with the younger kids**

 **theyre chillin on the beach night alone and the moon is full and it's (gasp) sorta romantic n shit**

Dipper pries open one of the bottles with the BeeGees singing bottle opener he brought along, then hands it to Mabel.

"Thank you kindly, brooo."

He nods and cracks open the other one for himself, taking a swig right off the bat as the faint, garbled tune of 'Stayin Alive' drifts up from the sand next to them.

Mabel scoffs after she takes a sip. "Man. Is it sad that it only takes like one and a half of these to get me buzzed? What the heck, it's like college had no effect."

"Nah, I'm still kind of a huge lightweight too. Maybe it's a Pines thing. I mean think of Mom and Dad, right? No no, think ofAunt _Phyllis._ I'm talkin' Aunt Phyllis at Thanksgiving two years ago."

Mabel bursts with a small fit of giggles. "Oh my gosh, I thought we agreed that we were erasing that night from our memories forever… eh, I guess we're just a family of lightweights. What are you gonna do." She jabs a finger towards the night sky. "Oh wait, hold up, except for Grunkle Stan! Stan's the exception to this rule."

"Oh-ho yeah," Dipper agrees with a laugh, "Stan is the exception to a lot of the rules."

"Let's drink to our beautifully sketchy grunk, yes?" Mabel raises her bottle in the air, and Dipper immediately follows suit, a big grin on his face.

"To Grunkle Stan," they call simultaneously, bottles clinking, voices echoing along the empty beach and mingling with the sound of crashing waves.

Mabel lies back on the blanket, and Dipper follows her lead. She lazily rolls her head towards his, so that they're face to face. She's so close. He can see flecks of sand dusted in her wild hair, and on her apple cheeks, the cartoon stickers she'd let their 4 year old cousin stick all over her face after dinner still in place. Her lashes are long and dark, fanned out over her twinkling eyes as she looks at him, a warm grin tugging at her lips. Dipper feels his mouth dry up, his heartbeat quickening.

The thought flashes through his mind that if he moved his head forward just a few inches, they would be kissing. Um. Wow. Okay. The fact that the thought even occurred to him in the first place startles him, yeah, but… probably not as much as it should. Definitely not enough to move away. Why doesn't this feel weirder? This should be weird, right?

it doesn't feel like the romantic sort of feelings he's had in the past. But it doesn't feel entirely platonic, either.

Next to him Mabel laughs softly, nudging his side, and Dipper feels his fingers twitch when they graze his in the process. "Disco giiiiirl," she starts.

Dipper snorts, rolling his head back and letting his best falsetto loose towards the heavens, "comin' throoough."

"That girl is youu. Ooh Ooh!"

Their arms wave around in the air above them, tipsy laughter audible all the way from the dunes.

 **-was gonna put another therapy session here. dipper and mabel have been getting closer. touch feelier. a lot of staring. dip isn't sure what to make of it. he can't hold much eye contact when therapist asks about mabel, its nbd but he can't admit to himself why**

 **-Childhood friend/neighbor asks Mabel out while they're home for the summer. She and dip are sittin on the couch all close together, mabel's feet tucked under his leg, while she recounts how it went down**

"So now I guess he wants to go on," Mabel lifts her hands for air quotes, " _a date,_ or whatever. And I'm standin there like, uh huh, sure man, eight years ago you ran away from me during gym class after I gave you the most amazing Valentine ever made but _now_ you wanna go out with me. Typical!"

Dipper doesn't even hear himself laughing weakly along with her, his heart busy sinking and his brain waytoo busy honing in on his sister's use of the word 'date.' He'd almost forgotten that Mabel dating was a thing, it'd been so long since her last boyfriend. And what was with the airquotes? What are the airquotes supposed to mean? Did they mean the same thing that the chill part of Netflix and chill meant? God he really hopes not–

 _Chill, man. People are allowed to ask out Mabel. Mabel can date people. She's your sister you idiot, not your…_

A vivid memory of Mabel pressing her lips against his cheek after saying goodnight the night before pops into Dipper's head. She'd kissed him, and he'd felt his heart start to pound, and that same embarrassing, weird-ass invasive thought he's been having since the beach had sprung up again, the one where he takes her hand while she's still close and turns his face just a couple inches to the left and–

Dipper winces, shaking his head once.

… _She's your sister._

He forces a smile. "Haha, oh man. You used to be totally in love with that kid."

"I know right? Remember how I taped a giant blown-up picture of his face to that Secondary School Musical cardboard cutout of Roy?"

"Yeah, somehow I don't think he'd be asking you out now if he knew about that."

"Ah shut up, I was young and in love," Mabel laughs and throws a pillow at Dipper's head. "But yeah, probs not. El-oh-el. What he don't know can't hurt him."

"True, true." Dipper scratches the side of his face, keeping his voice light, "…so you think you're gonna go?"

Mabel sighs dramatically, melting back against the arm of the couch. "I don't know. I mean I guess it has been forever since Zaid. And he was so super sweet about asking me…"

Dipper nods slowly, his eyes focused on a loose thread on the carpet.

"…But is it bad that I just wanna say no and sit here with you all night and watch a zillion more episodes of _Catfished_?"

A bubble of elation materializes instantly, right in the center of Dipper's chest, and he has to purse his lips to keep from grinning ear to ear. His throat clears. "I mean… if that's what you wanna do, I'm not going to stop you. S'definitely not bad though. You saw the commercial for the one coming on next, this girl is convinced she's _actually_ dating defamed rapper Lil' Big Dawg. I mean come on, Mabel. How could you in good conscience miss watching someone get the crap catfished out of them by fake Lil' Big Dawg?"

"Oh, yeah?" Mabel smirks at him, a perturbing twinkle in her eye. "Is that why you don't want me to go?"

"Who said I didn't want you to go?" Dipper retorts, probably way too quickly. Shit. Mabel raises her eyebrows and guffaws.

"Um, nobody did. T'was in your tooone."

"Okay, maybe according to you."

Mabel makes an airy sound. "Meh. Maybe I will go, then. Get some fresh air and get my dating groove on. No offense to fake Lil' Big Dawg, of course."

 _Dammit, dammit, dammit._ Dipper does the only thing he can think of in the moment and averts his eyes, opening his book back up even though he has no intention of reading it. His voice comes out slightly cold, much cooler than he meant for it to sound. "Whatever. You can do what you want. Like I said, I'm not gonna stop you."

Mabel goes quiet a few seconds. "Booo," she says finally, nudging his shoulder with a polka-dotted socked foot. "You're doing that thing you do. Lame."

"What thing?"

"That annoying jealous Dipper _'wahhh I'm pretending I don't care even though I obviously dooo'_ thing."

His heart leaps into his throat at the word 'jealous.' Ugh. _Why_. Mabel is pushing things and saying things out loud and it's weird. This conversation is _weird_. Heat creeps into Dipper's cheeks. He shifts uncomfortably, but dutifully maintains his deadpan expression. "You realize in order for me to be doing the jealous Dipper thing I'd have to _be_ jealous, right?"

"Are you saying you're not?" Mabel's grin is wide and joking as ever, but underneath all the taunting, there's a hint of disappointment in her tone. He's almost positive he heard disappointment.

Dipper's heart pounds. It's happening again. And he still has no idea how to approach this, how she wants him to react. Seriously, what the fuck is he supposed to say to that? Why does this keep happening?

"No, why would I be?"

The air in the room becomes unbearably stuffy. Mabel won't stop looking at him with a face that's very, very hard to read– he can just make it out out of the corner of his eye. And he's pretty sure she can tell he's blushing, and this is embarrassing, dammit, because this is Mabel. His sister, _Mabel_.

"What?" Dipper snaps when he can't take that look anymore. Mabel sighs almost inaudibly, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes.

"Nothing, jeez. I was just messin' with you. Chill."

"I am chill." He turns a page a bit more roughly than necessary, making a note to turn back a page when she's not around since he hasn't actually been reading anything.

"Oh, ch'yeah, _totally_. Really, the chillest guy I know." Mabel says, her voice syrupy with sarcasm. He dares a glance at her to see her staring blankly down at her phone, her fingers tapping away at a screen he can't see.

"Who're you texting?" Dipper asks before he can stop himself.

"Colin. You're acting like a poop all of a sudden, so whatevs, might as well go hang out with him."

Dipper offers her a half hearted scoff and nothing more, even though the thought of Mabel saying yes to going out with this guy is sending him into an awkward, uncomfortable panic. The show comes back from commercials, but neither of them are watching anymore. Mabel taps at her phone, balled up on her side of the couch, her feet no longer tucked under his leg, nowhere near touching him at all. Dipper keeps pretending to read, feeling stupid and cornered, trying to ignore the steadily growing pit in his stomach.

The silence stretches on. Every second of it feels like it's freaking killing him, the words he wants to say but won't (can't? shouldn't?) pushing feebly at his tightly sealed lips. Eventually Mabel stops texting and gets up to leave, headed for the stairs. Dipper feels his heart clench. _No no no–_

"You should stay," he hears himself blurt, his hands ridiculously sweaty where they clutch either side of his book.

"Why?" She challenges, turning back around to look at him.

"Because… I want you to?"

Mabel stares. Dipper goes scarlet. He's seconds away from breaking out into a nervous sweat, and maybe also a mini-heart attack, deathly afraid that he overstepped somehow, in this weird under-the-surface game neither of them will ever admit to playing.

But Mabel only gives him an easy smile. She pockets her phone, walking over to flop back on the couch next to him and picks up the remote. "Okay, good enough for me." She jacks up the volume on the TV and her feet get tucked back under his thigh. A relieved feeling spreads in Dipper's stomach, filling out the former pit.

Ten minutes into watching some poor sap get the crap catfished out of them by fake Lil' Big Dawg, a thought occurs to him. "Uh… shouldn't you tell that guy you're not going anymore?"

"Nahh." Mabel glances over at him, smiling sort of sheepishly. "Never actually sent that text."

Dipper says nothing, returning her crooked grin.

Later that night, about an hour after Mabel passes out on the couch, Dipper hoists his sister into his arms and carries her to her room. Lately he's been overthinking every single little touch he shares with her, but he decides he's in the clear for this one, since he's done it before.

Either Mabel is a lot heavier than she looks or he just really needs to work out more, because he's sort of out of breath by the time he manages to nudge her bedroom door open with his foot. Gently, Dipper lays Mabel out on her bed, setting her down so her hair fans out above her head on the pillow. He lets his face linger near hers for a moment, studying her closed eyelids, the long dark lashes skirting the tops of her cheeks. He takes a breath, shakes his head, and starts to lean up, but a pair of arms snake around his neck, pulling him back down into a makeshift hug.

Dipper blinks. "Um, Mabel?"

"You should stay," she murmurs, right into his ear. He has to suppress a shiver.

"Oh, uh. How come?"

"Because, I want you to," she shrugs against him, then lets her grip loosen enough so he can pull back to see her face. She smiles timidly. "So? Wanna have a sleepover? Old time's sake?"

He tries to ignore the way his heart picks up speed, and smiles back. "Uh– sure. Why not."

Mabel moves to make room, getting under the covers and holding them up for him, and against his better judgement, Dipper slips into bed next to her. He folds his hands over his chest above the covers, giving too much thought to everything– his movements, his sleeping pose, the pace of his breathing. _It's fine. You used to do this all the time. Calm down, it's fine. It's fine! Calm down oh my god–_

He's been laying there, still as a stump for all of five seconds before Mabel starts to fidget next to him.

"Hey I'm kinda feelin' cuddling, are you feelin' cuddling?"

"Oh- yeah um– sure." She smiles and scoots in close before Dipper can even finish answering her, ducking her head and nuzzling into his side, draping her arm over his chest.

Well this sure is happening.

"Mm. You're really warm." Mabel mumbles below him, back to sounding sleepy.

"Thanks, I try." Dipper says, hoping he sounds normal, willing himself to relax. If she can feel how fast his heart is pounding–which he suspects she can, because she's got her cheek pressed like, right against it–she doesn't say so.

 **#Maybe dip had a bad day after a long string of good days? something to do with grades? maybe he had a nightmare idk. He texts mabel doubting she's awake but she answers comes and gets in bed with him within a few minutes. They cuddle and talk and things get heavy and then this happens**

All the staring they've been doing lately feels like it's about to culminate.

Dipper starts forward, but hesitates, his mind still at war with itself. He stares into her eyes, lost and searching, hardly daring to breathe. She stares right back.

Figures that Mabel ends up making the decision for him, abruptly putting an end to the uncertainty and closing the gap, brushing her lips over his. She's always been the more fearless one.

The first thought his brain recognizes is the fact that it's his sister who's kissing him. But Dipper doesn't feel any disgust. Or even surprise. He doesn't know exactly what's happening, but for once he's okay with that, because what he does feel is safe, and calm, and… happy. A quiet, comforting sort of happy. It bubbles up like a chemical reaction gone awry in his chest, brimming over to trickle out to his limbs, all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. His eyes close. He feels himself returning the soft kiss, and Mabel makes a tiny sort of cooing sound. Her fingertips skate over his cheek, making his heart beat just a bit faster.

It doesn't last more than a few seconds. Carefully, they pull apart, but their faces stay close. He can still feel her breath tickling his skin. It's so nice, having her this close.

His eyes drift open to find her looking at him. Mabel's eyes hold no worry or apprehension, only warmth, and that silent 'everything's gonna be fine' look she'll give him sometimes, along with her signature Mabel twinkle. She grins at him sleepily, her shoulders raising in a little shrug. One side of his mouth quirks up into a smile, his chest feeling lighter than it has in a long time. Weightless, almost. Like everything really will be fine.

Mabel is the one to end the dopey smile-fest, leaning forward. For a moment he thinks she's going to kiss him again, which triggers an embarrassingly giddy feeling in Dipper's heart, but then her head tilts upwards and she presses her lips to his forehead instead. He breathes out, quiet and content, his eyes drifting shut. This is nice too.

Mabel pulls back an inch, runs her rainbow nails once through his hair, then silently turns over, scooting right up to him until her back is pressed to his chest. She pulls her blanket more securely over the both of them before reaching for his arm and draping it around herself, finally going still. Dipper holds her gladly, his nose pressed to the back of her hair. Her scent is comforting. Everything about her is comforting.

He falls asleep easily that night, wrapped up in her warmth.

 **# Dip gets his summer grades back, him and Mabel check them on the computer together. Yayyyy Dipper did good. Go Dip. Hugs and hair ruffles happen. A little later Mabel is headed out of the house to do something. Tells him she's headed out, then as a last minute thought tells him again that she's proud of him again and gives him another big hug**

Unthinkingly, she lingers near his face out of habit. The action does not go unnoticed by Dipper, who closes his eyes, puckers his lips a little and leans in, but she registers what he's going for too late, already in the process of stepping away. Dipper's head follows hers for a good few inches before his eyelids fly open and he goes red, hastily moving back, and Mabel's heart freezes a beat as she realizes what that must've looked like to him, and they both start talking fast at the same time.

"Oh- sorry, I thought–"

"Whoopsie, didn't realize you were–"

"–haha yeah. My bad–"

"–No no! It's fine, we can–"

They stop talking over one another, say "wait what," at the same time, and dissolve into laughter. But the laughs die down quickly, leaving the twins in a short moment of awkward silence before Dipper scrunches up his face and shakes his head.

"Sorry, thought you were going for something else there, haha…" He swipes his hand through the air, waving himself off. "Anyways. Ignore me."

"It's all good man, I didn't get the memo in time is all. These lips are open for business now though. Fully prepared Mabel lips, at your service!" She salutes him and makes a juicy kissing noise to lighten the mood, but that only seems to embarrass her brother more, his eyes everywhere but on hers.

"Nah, it's no big deal. If you don't want–"

"No no, I do want, I do want," Mabel interrupts, beaming and pointing enthusiastically to her mouth with both fingers. "C'mon, lay one on me, broski."

Dipper visibly brightens, his eyes flitting down to the floor and back up. There's one last half-second of hesitation before he dips his head and leans, hands still in his pockets, until their lips are touching. It's a short, sweet kiss. For some reason it reminds her of those black and white TV land couple kisses, the ones that happen in the mornings right before the husband leaves for work – haha, weird thought when applied to her and Dip– cute weird, though–

Their mouths make a tiny, yet entirely satisfying smacking sound as he takes a step back, looking vaguely self conscious, but not ashamed. He's never looked ashamed after kissing her.

"Sorry," Dipper shrugs, a lopsided grin on his face, "just kinda felt like it I guess."

"It's all good, you're allowed to feel like it." Mabel lands a friendly tap on his shoulder with her fist. "And FYI, you don't have to apologize every time you kiss me, ya nerd. I like being kissed, I mean have you met me?"

"Right. Sorry–I mean, noted. Cool." He shoots her a fingergun, head bobbing shyly as he laughs with her.

"As a cucumber."

"So, uh," Dipper clearly started this sentence without having any idea where he was going with it, searching for words as he tries to control his smile. It's cute. Cute as heck, dangit. "you're headed to— Hannah's, yeah?"

"Yeah, for a little bit. I'll be back in time to drive with you to therapy." She steps forward to close the space between them again, quirking an eyebrow up at him. "But one more for the road?"

He smiles, a few nervous chuckles slipping out. "Sure, you won't find any complaints here."

"Noted. Cool." She returns his earlier fingergun, adding a wink. Then her hands lift to draw him in by the shoulders, and his palms rest on either side of her waist, and they meet in the middle for a kiss that lasts a lot longer than the other one. Dipper's lips have been kinda chapped this past week, but it still feels nice, gently smoothing over them with hers. It sends a rush flurrying through her, the extreme existence of which she's not sure she's ready to 'fess up to, yet.

When they break apart she lets their noses brush together for a second or two, giddiness rising in her stomach when she sees how his eyes are still closed, how his lips are still parted, how they still linger so close to hers, like they haven't truly accepted the kiss is over yet.

She steps away and pokes his cheek. "Haa. You're cute. You know that?"

He rolls his eyes, his hands finding their way back into his pockets. "Yeah, yeah. See ya in a few?"

"Affirmative, mah brother. Here, for you." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a sheet of summer themed stickers, plucking one off and sticking it on Dipper's face before he can protest. "To remember me by."

"What is it?"

"A sun, with sunglasses. Because I know how much you love those." She pats his cheek, making sure the sticker is good and stuck. "Careful peeling that off, it's got high caliber stick and I see some runaway beard hair trapped under there."

"Wow. You really suck, thank you."

After exchanging one last fond look they go their separate ways, Dipper sauntering back into his room, sun with sunglasses adorning his face, Mabel headed for the stairs at the other end of the hallway. She actually makes an effort to try and stifle a bit of the goofy smile that's become plastered across her face as she walks down the stairs, out the door, slides into the driver's seat of the van, turns the key in the ignition, fiddles with the radio. But the stupid thing refuses to quit. A few minutes into the drive she bites down on her lip to try and make it go away, because she's starting to feel like a big giant fluttery-hearted dork. It stubbornly remains.

Yeah, so, that's… thaaat's a thing now. Her and Dipper lip-smacking. Each other. Regularly.

It started with bedtime kisses every few nights or so, now it's graduated to an anytime-we're-feelin-it occurence. They're usually pretty chaste little numbers. Like a warm, sincere sibling hug except with lips and not arms, but… it probably is worth mentioning that they have lowkey made out a few times. Lowkey, she swears! But uh, tongues have been involved before. Here and there. And oddly enough, even then it doesn't seem like a very big deal. Obviously they know it's taboo enough not ever let anyone onto this new development, ever. But honestly, as far a sense of normalcy between them goes, things seem… weirdly fine.

Because it's not like they're _together_. It's not like they're trying to rrrrrromance each other. They're just… uh, chillin'? Quote unquote hanging out? Nah, that would imply dating. And she's not _dating_ her brother. That would be straight _crazy_ , fool.

She's just… not dating anyone else.

Mabel blows her bangs out of her face, squinting at the road. Is there even a word for this? Their relationship is exactly the same as it was before, they just… kiss sometimes. What would one call that?

Hm. Heck, she doesn't freakin know. It's definitely odd enough to be at the forefront of her mind… like all the time.

Granted, he can be very tentative about it, and is still awkward about initiating things. But he's never turned her down, and always seems to be just as into it as she is. This new development is mutual, this much she knows for sure. And it's a really nice feeling, having so much of Dipper's attention all to herself these days. One might even say that it makes her heart whir and her stomach flutter happily at the thought. Maybe.

She's his sister, he loves her and this isn't weird.

That's the thought Dipper feeds himself on the daily. And it's sort of working for him… sort of.

 **# sure it is dip. uh other stuff has happened but don't worry about it lmao. summer is drawing to a close, dipper's attachment to mabel only gets stronger and stronger. his feelings are starting to wear and tear at him, the not knowing thing, but mabel seems like she knows what she's doing, and he's just kinda following her lead, not wanting to mess anything up. caught himself pinching his arm once thinking about not wanting to ruin things. what if mabel meets some dude in london? was this just a summer thing? what the hell is this even a thing thing**

 **-anyway right now he's lyin in bed alone and it's late at night and yeah, WHO CAN say what happens now this scene is just so unpredictable**

His mind starts to get away from him, warmth creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. He thinks about the softness of her lips. Her hands running through his hair, in that calm, compassionate way they always do. The gentle curve of her neck, the way it smoothly dips into her shoulder. He imagines closing his lips around her pulse point and sucking, while she wriggles and makes breathy sounds beneath him, and absently reaches down under the blanket to run a hand over himself through his boxers. Back in his brain Mabel presses her curvy body achingly close against his, her hand slipping under the band of his underwear, brushing down the length of him and back up again. Dipper sucks in a shallow breath, wriggling his own hand beneath his waistband and gripping, stroking, imagining. The fantasy conjures up a whisper of his name. Man, he can hear it so clearly, that voice… her voice. Soft and filled with need.

A shudder rocks through him from what feels like head to toe, his cock throbbing in his hand. Dipper stops suddenly, yanking his arm from under the blanket and letting it drop rudely onto the mattress. He squeezes his eyes shut, so hard that his nose scrunches up and deep divots form between his eyebrows, then opens them again, breathing out thickly.

Shit…

Shit.

He's… is he crossing a line here?

Well. Obviously, _yes_ – no shit, sherlock–he caught himself on the verge of rubbing one out to twin-sister-themed thoughts. He almost laughs hollowly at the awareness. Yeahh, that's… definitely questionable. Certainly not your average everyday impulse.

But a lot of lines have already been crossed, when it came to him and Mabel. He can at least admit that much to himself. No matter how the two of them justify it, it's not normal to make out with your sister. It's not normal to spend, to _want_ to spend all your time with your sister. It's most definitely not normal to get hard while thinking about your sister as you lay awake in the middle of the night. Nnnope, not normal. Lines have been crossed. Slowly but surely, some controversial feelings have manifested. He's just not sure what he's allowed to do with them. If anything. Or even exactly what he would call them.

Dipper's jaw clenches. His eyes are on the verge of boring holes into his ceiling, pupils dilated from a combination of darkness and fear and uncertainty and dying horniness. This isn't the first Mabel-related rush of blood between his legs he's ever felt. Not even close. How many times has he had to oh-so-subtly hold his pelvis away from her as she holds his face in her hands, her tongue in his mouth? This is just the first time he's being honest with himself about the depth of the Mabel-related part. Man, being honest with himself sure does suck. He never seems to like what he finds.

God. This is Mabel. _Mabel_.

Dipper's fists grip hard at his sheets as his thoughts begin to whir through all of who his sister is, glimpses in rapid, fast paced succession, like flip book in his brain–the rosy apple cheeks, the snorty laughter, the stickers, the homemade sweaters, the kooky weirdness he knows she'll never grow out of, the bubbly kindness, the undying optimism–all the things that make Mabel Mabel. He thinks about what she's done for him, what she means to him, how many times she's saved his life over the years, sometimes knowingly, most times unknowingly. How she's still saving him, and will continue to do so for the rest of her life just by existing, just by being a part of his.

His chest swells with something terrifyingly intense, the overinflated bubble of emotion topped off with a crippling film of shame.

Fuck. Fuck, he loves her. So much. And what would she think of him if she knew he was doing this? Would she feel grossed out? Betrayed? Disappointed? Would she forgive him? Probably, yeah. She always does. But that doesn't mean she would feel okay with it. Dammit. He swears he didn't mean to start thinking about her like this. It just happened. They've gotten so freaking close, and it just happened. Was it always bound to lead in this direction?

Dipper tries frantically to piece it all together. Mabel refuses dates with other guys. She dedicates most of her time to him. They talk about things, tell each other heavy things in quiet voices that he knows they'd never share with anybody else. And the way she kisses him, touches him, looks at him. The way she fucking _looks_ at him sometimes, god. What is this? What in the hell is this? How could they have gotten in so deep and still not know?

Her face, then the scoop of her neck pops back into his mind's eye and he gives his head a disciplinary shake against his pillow. Fucking– okay. Okay, Dipper. Time to think with your brain and not your dick. You've always been pretty good at that. No, he doesn't know what's going on, really, between him and Mabel. And he's also just come to the realization that he's deathly afraid to ask. But he does know that Mabel looking at him does not equal some kind of sexual inevitability between the two of them. Mabel looking at him and pressing her lips sweetly to his and holding him close as she snores next to him does not mean she wants her brother beating off to thoughts of her body as soon as she turns her back.

Ugh. Jesus. This feels like some sort of gross sibling code violation. He's not supposed to be like other guys, who wouldn't think twice about using her for fap material. He's supposed to be the exception. He's her brother. He protects her, and she protects him. That's the way it goes. That's the way it's always been. They have each other's backs. Dipper does not take that lightly.

He's better than this. Even if she would never know, he would know. He would still have to look her in the eye in the morning. Those big, brown, trusting eyes. This is stupid and pathetic and he's better than this.

He digs his fingers into his eyes, his stomach twisting with guilt and confusion. Down below he can feel his erection starting to fade a little. It first kindles a wave of relief, and then one of frustration. A weighty, choking sort of frustration that he resents himself for feeling at all.

Dipper rolls onto his belly, stuffs his hands under his pillow, and shuts his eyes.

 **#it's mid august. the twins drive out to a park with hiking trails they've been going to forever with a six pack for a little pre bday celebration, since mabel is all packed up and headed out for her london study abroad the next day and will be gone for their 19th birthday. They offroad it to a secluded clearing with a kickass view they discovered a while back, where they sit on a blanket to chill and drink and banter. They've been there awhile, it's just crossed over from late afternoon to evening territory. nothing else is going to happen, probably**

"So how ya feelin', Dipster. About going back to school an' all." Mabel sets the daisy crown she'd been braiding on top of his head, fixing it here and there so the tiny blossoms wreath his curls just right.

"Good. Feelin' pretty good. I mean I'm feeling like I'll miss you, obviously. But other than that… weirdly optimistic."

"Aw, that's awesome. Hang onto that optimism. Weird is good." She winks and pokes him in the stomach. "So. You're gonna miss me, huhh."

Dipper's eyes roll. "Mm. Here we go…"

"You gonna piiiine away for me while I'm gone? You gonna fall asleep every night thinkin' about my awesome self and wishing you could get in on some Mabel cuddles? Hmmmm?"

He rolls his eyes again, but then turns to sweep his eyes over the expanse of trees and skyline beyond them, wearing his 'pondering' face. "Well… probably a little, yeah." Dipper clears his throat, color rising in his cheeks. "I uh… I mean, this summer's been fun, Mabel." At some point while he was stumbling through that sentence he'd reached over and taken her hand. She stares down at their linked up fingers, a smile coming to her pink lips, before looking back up at him.

"Yeah. Dang, it really has. Like the best."

Dipper laughs, his hand squeezing hers affectionately. "Yeah… who'da thunk it."

"Haha, right? Total life curveball."

They fall into a comfortable silence. Mabel scoots closer, resting her head on Dipper's shoulder. She unlinks their hands so she can play with his fingers, spreading them out one by one, drawing imaginary loop-dee-loops around each of his knuckles, turning his hand over to trace the lines in his ever-so-slightly sweaty palms.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, Dip," she says, nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck. It goes back to quiet for a minute. She can hear the crickets beginning to wake in the surrounding grass, gearing up for dusk with their tiny song.

"…Me too," Dipper finally answers. It sounds like he wants to say something more, the slightest hint of a word escaping from his mouth, but he falls silent. She feels his lips pressing into her hair, in what feels less like a kiss and more like him resting his mouth on her head. He breathes in, causing her head to rise on his shoulder with the inhale, and then deflates, his body feeling solid and content underneath the t-shirt she's got her ear pressed against. Something in Mabel's chest grows, warm, unchecked.

"You know, it's crazy," Dipper speaks up. "A few months ago, whenever I would think about my future… or shit, any future, I would just… seize up. It was like I couldn't breathe, like someone was sitting on my chest or something. I didn't wanna face it, I didn't want anything to do with it. And I don't know. This is nuts to me, because now… now it's like, I just sort of feel…"

He trails off. Mabel puts her hand on his knee, shaking it slightly back and forth so he'll talk. "What? Tell me." She shakes harder. "Tellll meee."

He glances at her, his expression a tiny bit shy. "I was just gonna say… I guess I don't feel as terrified about wherever I'm gonna end up, so long as it's close to wherever… _you_ end up."

Mabel blinks. Then she feels her face break into a giant, force-of-a-thousand-suns smile. Oh. Wow. This is… oh gosh oh gosh. She's spent so much time telling herself that of course this summer can't last, of course he's gonna peace out one day, of course eventually he's going to move somewhere hoppin' and far away and leave her behind. Because he's so intelligent, so talented, so obviously destined to do great things in great places. And now, to hear him say something like this to her, right before she's leaving… it's like a thousand percent more than she could've hoped for. Her brain bursts into an appropriately happy musical number, her heart fluttering up a storm.

Seeing her smile makes him smile, and something like relief washes over Dipper's face. He looks to the horizon again, nodding to himself, a hand running through his hair. "Okay. Hearing that doesn't freak you out. Yes. Awesome."

Mabel blows a raspberry. "Heck no! Why would it?"

"I mean, you know." He shrugs, looking at her a few times out of the corner of his eye. "This kind of goes against the whole 'you can't follow your siblings around forever' rule. That… the vast majority seems to follow."

Mabel quirks an eyebrow. "Yeah, and?"

"And…" Dipper's eyebrows scrunch up as he stares off into space, "we… are really not doing this whole sibling thing the normal way, are we."

"Mmm, nope. We are not." She brings a hand to his cheek, tilting his face towards hers. Dipper blushes, but holds her gaze. "Meh, normal's way overrated anyway. Gotta stay weird, brother. That's the mystery twin specialty, come on, you know this."

His gaze softens, the corners of his mouth curling upwards. For nowhere near the first time in her life, Mabel finds herself taking in Dipper's face, one feature at a time. The light, nearly unnoticeable dusting of summer freckles across his cheeks, the ridiculously long golden lashes, the cute scruff of a beard along his jaw and chin. The flecks of copper sprinkled amongst the deep browns of his eyes. Gah. Her brother is so much more attractive than he ever gives himself credit for. His grin has since faded into a more pensive sort of look, and she can see his eyes lingering on her lips before they flit up to hers.

"Ugh. Jeeeez, dude."

Dipper squints, the smile creeping back onto his face. "What?"

"No. Don't even start with the oblivious whats, you are such a _nerd_. Blargh, I can't even handle it. Stop that."

"No way. Somehow it's actually been working in my favor for once."

Throughout their little exchange their faces hovered closer and closer so that now the sides of their noses are low-key nuzzling. Mabel lets out a low chuckle. "Ah man, Dip. We are gonna make out so hard and ah _luhhve_ it."

"Same, though." With that his oh so beautifully lashed eyelids fall shut and he tilts his cute nerdy head and lands his mouth soundly on hers. Mabel hums, gripping one of his shoulders and leaning into the kiss. She freakin' loves it when Dipper makes the first move. It doesn't happen as often as she'd like it to.

Mabel opens her mouth and he follows her cue, tilting his head and wrapping an arm around her to bring her closer as their tongues meet lightly. Dipper's lips move slowly, but with so much resolve, she can practically taste how eager he is. Mabel exhales a soft noise, trailing her fingers along his prickly jaw and into his hair. The butterflies in her tummy are going absolutely crazy. Whoo boy. The Dips here sure has gotten better at this since they first started up this sibs-who-happen-to-kiss-each-other-sometimes deal. Or if not better, then much, much more confident.

Without them meaning to, their kisses slowly become deeper, breathier, more sensual. She only notices just how rapidly her heart is beating when she hears Dipper breathe out a little bit shakily. Their embrace starts to feel more and more pressing, the faintly growing urgency a noticeable contrast to their usual calm sort of togetherness. Maybe it's because they're so isolated out here, and the fear of being caught is the lowest it's ever been? Or maybe this was something that had been building for while. She doesn't know. Eh, she's so wrapped up in him right now that she doesn't really care.

Dipper uses his hold on her to gently pull her down to the blanket with him, neither noticing when his makeshift daisy crown falls away. One of her knees lifts to straddle his lap without a second thought. He tugs away the hot pink tie holding her braid together, softly finger combing out the woven locks so he can bury his hand in the hair at the nape of her neck. Whatever is growing between them only grows stronger, and a positively giddy feeling rises in Mabel's chest, the heady exchange of wet sounds combined with their staccato breathing like music to her ears.

On a whim she seizes his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging and releasing in a soft little nip. Dipper makes a noise he probably didn't mean to make, his bitten-off nails digging slightly into the back of her dress. It's such a quiet sound. But it still causes a distinct spike in her heart rate, because if she had to put a name to it… she would call it longing. Deep, straight up longing. It strikes a chord deep down within Mabel, bringing to the surface thoughts she would normally hold at at bay when she's with her brother like this, her sister-brain programming keeping them pushed down as sort of a reflex.

But now that she's let the thoughts in, she can't get them out of her head. She can't get that sound out of her head, either. It's… oh boy. It's got her wondering if maybe…

Mabel pretends to adjust her position, just long enough to totally-on-accident brush down against Dipper's lap– and sure enough, she feels a glimpse of something hard straining against denim, triggering a small burst of warmth in her gut. Welp. She's got the answer to her wonderings now. Make out boner, confirmed.

Dipper tenses up just barely at the smidgen of contact, but otherwise his eyes stay calm and unfazed under his closed eyelids and he keeps kissing her like normal. Mabel sighs inwardly. Ah, yes. Pretend nothing happened. Standard Dipper procedure.

Blah. There's really no reason she should feel disappointed in his lack of reaction, because usually they do just ignore it. Both of them. Well, the other times it's happened were accidents, but still. The whole kissing thing… it didn't start out as something sexual, like, at _all_ , so now there's this silent agreement that any apparent excitement or whatever is just a byproduct of good ol', uh, _friendly_ tonsil hockey rather than a red flag on the hey-now-this-is-gettin-pretty-incesty field, and that no one has to do anything about it, or even acknowledge it. Honestly, Dipper's never made her feel like she ever needed to do anything about it. Which is pretty cool of him, especially when she compares his approach to the could-you-even-call-them-approaches of some of her past boyfriends and hook-ups and whathaveyou, but… she'd be lyin' if she said she didn't think about doing something about it sometimes…

Okay fine, she's thought about it a lot.

But she never has tried anything with him. Nothing beyond face smooching and extended hand holding and cuddling and sneaky bedtime spooning. Stuff that maybe, by some sort of bizzaro looong stretch, could somehow still be categorized in the 'haha, we're just really really _really_ tight sibs' category. Because… it's Dipper, right? And there are rules to this thing, right? Boundaries. Kissin' his face is one thing. Breakin' out the dipstick and taking it for a joyride seems like… er, a whole other thing.

Man. Would he even be into that? Like, with _her?_

Mabel is suddenly overwhelmed with the need to find out. And although the unmistakable yearning she heard in Dipper's voice earlier has her optimistic, she still feels the creeping sensation of nerves in her stomach.

This would be… different. For them.

Pulling her lips away from his with a juicy-sounding smack, Mabel tosses her mussed up hair out of her face as she reaches behind her, taking Dipper's hands from her waist and pinning them down to the blanket by his head. Before they can really make eye contact she leans down to put her mouth next to his ear. "Hey. I'm gonna try a thing. Be cool."

"Okay?" She hears him ask in classic I-need-to-know-exactly-what's-going-on-all-the-time Dipper fashion. "What kind of— ohh, shit…"

The questioning fades out about halfway through Mabel slowly rolling her hips over his, and he sucks in a breath. Everything gets quiet apart from the usual August forest sounds and the slight breeze tickling past her ear. Dipper stays completely still the whole time, while Mabel keeps her face hidden in his neck. She thinks she might've unintentionally started holding her breath. She thinks he might be holding his breath, too.

After the first go-round Mabel decides to give herself permission to drag herself thoroughly against her brother's nether-nether-lands a couple more times, caught up in finally scoping out that mysterious make out boner she's been so curious about— as much as she can through his old thinning-out jeans, anyway. But yeah, it's… it's a very nice make out boner. Notable. Not too in-your-face. It's very… him, somehow. It's all very Dipper, hard and in between her legs and despite the clothing barrier, Mabel hears herself moan softly.

She stops abruptly, sits up, but still allows her weight to rest in scandalous places. Mabel raises her eyebrows at Dipper, questioning silently. Dipper just stares up at her, wrists still pinned, cheeks flushed beyond all belief, his breathing slow and careful. He looks… dazed. That's a good thing, right? She doesn't usually question guy signals so much. Usually things with guys happen much quicker and more confidently than this. But to be fair, this is a pretty special case.

Mabel shrugs her shoulders. "Sooo, yay? Nay? I'm kinda looking for feedback here, so. Feedback away."

Dipper only nods vacantly, his eyes half-lidded.

"Okayy… I should assume nodding means yay, yes?"

"Oh. Yeah! Crap, that was loud. I-I mean yeah." Dipper shakes his head, his face scrunching up. "I mean, yay." His voice is coming out all scratchy and breathy. "Um, going with–goin with yay."

Mabel grins, already in the process of leaning back down to him. Some of her hair escapes from behind her ears, forming a wavy brown curtain around their faces. "Good," she whispers, "'cause it's a major yay for me too."

She starts grinding on him again and this time she doesn't stop. Dipper's breath hitches sharply. A quiet swear wisps out from between his parted lips, and then he's kissing her, kissing her much more fiercely and passionately than Mabel ever remembers being kissed by him before today, which is just yes, yes, _yes_. Her fingers find their way into his and they quickly weave together, gripping tight. Dipper starts to move too, his lower half rising cautiously off the blanket to press himself into each roll of her hips.

Uh, _wow_.

Something about him reciprocating makes this much more real all of a sudden. And there's no jolt of wrongness, like Mabel half expected there to be. All it feels is good. All it does is leave her wanting to be closer to him. Wanting more.

Hm. Maybe there are no rules, when it comes to her and Dipper. Maybe that was all just stuff she made up in her head. Yeah, this would be weird for normal siblings, but normal siblings don't do a lot of the things her and her brother do, stuff that's never felt weird for either of them. And anyway, her bond with her brother has never felt completely normal, especially not since that first summer in Gravity Falls, and… if she's being honest, she's always liked that about them. Her and Dipper's relationship is _special_. It doesn't play by no dumb, stifling rules. It holds no bounds. There's a level of closeness that no one but the two of them could ever possibly understand. Who's to say this isn't just another part of that?

Dipper's hands escape hers to caress their way up her thighs, his fingers as pressing and needy as his mouth. She shivers on top of him. She can feel her crotch throbbing as they move together, every press and grind through their clothes so frustratingly painstaking, so absurdly potent that it's almost embarrassing. The sharp breaths he drags in through his nose sound deafeningly loud in her ears, each heated kiss exchanged leaving her more and more lightheaded. He whispers her name. _Mabel_. She swears he's grown harder since they started this. Oh man. Whaaat is happening here, haha…? Her mind tiptoes away from her, and in the dim haze Mabel finds herself wishing the clothes were gone and that he were moving inside of her instead of just against her, and– and–

Woah. Woah there, Mabel. It surprises her enough to jolt her eyes open, how quickly this escalated from wondering whether or not she induced a bro-boner to straight out _wanting_ it with Dipper. Wow. Yeah. Quite the escalation.

But then… her eyes drift shut again… the idea becomes less jarring and more enticing the longer she dwells on it. It starts to make perfect sense. They're completely alone out here. They're both clearly in the mood. Their physical relationship is already deep, _deep_ in the land of gray area. And she's not gonna be able to even hug him for like, three and a half months. Might as well finish out this awesome summer with a bang, right? Haha. She lets out a laugh-snort. Pun completely intended.

"You're laughing. Should I be worried?" Dipper asks from beneath her, sounding both amused and out of breath.

"Was I? Sorry, I made a joke in my head, and it was— _mmm_ —" Her train of thought gets mildly interrupted by the sensation of his tongue on her neck, followed closely by his teeth, "—i'twas hilarioussss."

"Oh yeah? You gonna let me in on the joke?"

She lets out a low giggle as he dots little kisses up her neck. "You know, I think I might."

Dipper finishes off his kiss trail by planting a long one on her lips, fingers threaded in her hair. He pulls away, leaving them both breathless, and raises his eyebrows expectantly. "Sooo, what was it about? It better not have been at my expense."

Mabel shrugs, resting her forehead on his. "Ah, y'know, just about, y'know… you, and me, out here, together, having fun, enjoying nature, bangin'onthishill…"

"Haha—" his smile falters, "wait, what?"

"Pretty funny, right?" She grins almost maniacally, staring down at him. Dipper's face is super hard to read right now.

"Uh, yeah, haha… funny."

Mabel laughs again, then lowers her voice to a loud whisper, cupping a hand around her mouth. "Pssst. We could do it, though. You wanna?" She wiggles her eyebrows, and between her legs she feels him twitch.

"Oh, uh. Um," Dipper stammers, looking dumbfounded. His eyes flit to the side skittishly and back at hers as he laughs uneasily. "Ho-kay, gonna level with you Mabes, I can't tell if you're kidding or not aaand I'm not completely sure what I'm supposed to say to that."

Mabel cocks her head at him, holding in a laugh. Oh Dipper. Dipper, Dipper, Dipper you sweet beautiful bearded newborn baby. "You're supposed to say whatever you wanna say, dummy." She giggles, moving in to try to kiss him again but he puts his hands on her shoulders, holding her at bay.

"Yeah, that doesn't help me at all."

"Oh my gosh, Dipper, you giant nerd. Just nevermind." She pecks the tip of his nose and then pushes their hips together again, and instead of trying to get another word in he exhales a shaky breath, his hands leaving her shoulders to rest on her lower back. They restart the slow dry humping, Dipper once again following her lead after only a few seconds of hesitation. It's good stuff. She almost squeaks when his pants bulge hits a super sweet spot multiple times in a row, and the thought of what's crammed inside his jeans is making her feel almost dizzy with want. She pivots harder, snatching up his left hand in her right and pressing his palm to her breast, holding him there until she's sure he won't let go.

Okeydoke. Bump 'n grind check, boob grab check, and now… Mabel isn't totally sure how to proceed from here. She didn't get quite the response she was looking for when she 'let him in on the joke.' She pictured something more like him jumping at the chance of sex with her, because she's hot stuff, and they could figure out how the whole sibling thing plays into this later, right? But the uncertainty in his voice stamped down on her assurance, just a tiny bit.

He's nervous, obviously. That's fair, that's fair. But the fact remains that it's sister-hard-on city in his pants, and she's basically got swamplands goin' on down there, she's got herself so worked up. And she's so curious, now. About what it would feel like to be with _Dipper_. Curious past the point of worrying about taboos or so-called moral repercussions or the chance that this might seriously change up this new relationship dynamic they've established over the past few months. She is damn curious. And something has her convinced that it would feel really good, not because she thinks he's like, a sex god or anything, but just _because_ it's Dipper.

He's got to be curious too, right?

Mabel lets a small, desperate noise slip from her mouth and into his. She parts her legs a little further so she can press down more flush against him, and the very next second Dipper is making his own small noise that sounds twice as desperate, his hand brazenly kneading her breast through the patterned fabric. She takes his enthusiastic response as a sign.

No rules, Mabel. No rules.

She breaks the kiss with a sultry half moan, half sigh, sitting up and frantically contorting from this position to that to untie and kick off one of her shoes, push her purple tights down to her ankles, and take her left foot out of the tights completely. Dipper's mouth opens and closes and opens but nothing comes out, and he starts to urgently scan his eyes over the trees around them, as if someone was seconds away from popping out of the bushes and calling for them to stop in the name of the law. He finally finds it in him to say something when Mabel hikes up her dress again to jam her thumbs under the elastic of her purple cotton underwear. "Woah, Mabel, I thought–"

"It's fine, it's fine. This is me initiating your going away present," Mabel announces cheerfully, before he can finish his sentence, "the trick is to just go with it."

"My going away present?" His eyes are wide and unblinking as they follow her panties down her legs.

"Yyyep! Well technically it'd be like a Mabel-is-going-away present? Whatever, same intent." Mabel stands into a crouch, only taking out her left foot again, allowing the colorful garment to hang around her ankle along with her bunched up tights. She almost trips in the process, letting out a squawk of surprise before she steadies herself. "Whoopsie, almost lost the sexy there. But we still got it folks, we still got it, it's aaaaall good." She gives her brother an over the top wink, plopping back down on his thighs and grabbing two handfuls of his shirt, diving down to give his neck a big, wet kiss. She moves back to look him in the eye, lowering her tone to something that in her humble opinion is the most seductive sounding thing that ever was. "Get ready for the ride of your life, brother-o-mine."

"Wait, you mean right now? Here?"

"Mm, I'm thinking yes and _yes_." Another wink. Dipper gulps, his eyes still channeling that endearing deer-in-headlights vibe. It's then that Mabel has a sort of moment of realization that her voice sounds way more confident than she actually is– nice. Heck yeah. _Keep that up, Mabel-girl._ She does a little dance in place as her fingers move down to lift his shirt and unbuckle his belt.

"But we, what about– we don't have a condom."

"Jeez, Mr. Assumptions over here. How do you know I haven't been carrying one around this whole time for just such an occasion as this one?"

"You–you have?" he stammers, his voice high.

"Nah. But it's cool, I've been on the pill for like a bazillion years." Mabel finishes unzipping his jeans and sits back far enough so she can work them down his legs, grinning toothily when she gets them far enough to free up his boxers, which sport a small wet spot and an obvious tent. "Well hey there bro, don't miiind if ah dooo." She goes with her gut reaction and curtly takes hold of him through his underwear, causing Dipper to let out an almost-squeak. She shivers, feeling a throb between her legs. Gosh, he's really freaking hard already.

"Uhh, are you– ahh _fuck_ …" his breathing gets shallow as she starts to rub him over his boxers, and there's a tremble in his voice, but she takes that as a good thing.

Fueled by her ludicrous amount of excitement, Mabel scrambles over him, straddling his hips, her dress hiding everything from view. She reaches beneath the hem, hand stealth-missioning it into his boxers to swiftly draw him out through the slit, pressing him with her fingers up between her legs and flush against the abundant wetness there before grinding heavily on the side of his dick. She does all of this so fast and so suddenly that they both moan loudly without meaning to, and shoooot, hearing him vocally respond to her like that gets her a crazy amount of fired up, her confidence soaring. This feels so nice already, and her chest feels so fluttery, and dangit, the words sound great in her head, so she says them. "Oh god Dipper, I want you inside me."

"M-Mabel, holy shit… "

"I'm serious, _a-ah,_ I need you, Dip," she whines breathily, sucking on his neck.

"M– I… fuhh…" Dipper start to say something but the words disintegrate into an airy grunt as her hips roll with more and more passion. He places his shaky hands on her waist, his movements sort of stiff and awkward, but she lets it slide. She's not in the mood to poke fun at him. Right now she's pretty much only in the mood for one thing. She presses into him, marveling at the way she can feel his chest heaving through his shirt, how she can feel his heartbeat thumping out of control. The urge to get closer consumes her. It hits her that she definitely wasn't just saying all that stuff to be sexy, like she truly, honest-to-god feels like she needs him, like right now, nownownow—

Mabel maneuvers the hand she has down between them to grip him fully, scooting forward on her knees. She doesn't register the way Dipper freezes underneath her, too caught up in positioning herself over him just right.

" _Fuck_ —fuck, hold up a sec—"

"But I don't want toooo," she moans, beginning to press down against him, dead set on the idea that once she gets him in there and starts moving he'll shut up with the unnecessary worrying because it'll totally be the greatest feeling in the whole wide world—

Hands grip her hips suddenly, hard enough that she can't move any further. "Mabel _wait_ , can you just — can we put on the brakes for like two seconds? Please?"

The sheer anxiety in his voice sends a twinge to her chest and brings Mabel's brain out of the I-need-the-D-and-I-need-it-now fog, and she hurriedly lets him go, moving back, her cheeks flushing with shame. "Sorry! I'm sorry. Oh crapsticks, that was way super pushy, wasn't it? I wasn't trying to be pushy, Dip." Her face drops into her hands. "Oh my god, I didn't even ask if you were okay with it. I just assumed like a gross jerk that it was something you… oh, ew, not cool, Mabel. Ugh, Dipper, I'm so so sorry…" Her voice gets so tiny that it trails off into nothingness, a tight feeling rising in her throat.

"No, Mabes, it's not… it's fine. Don't—" he gets cut off when she accidentally lets loose one of those sharp about-to-cry sounds. She blushes and purses her lips to keep them from wobbling and immediately Dipper sits up, pulling her hands away from her face and holding them in his. "Hey. Mabel, hey. Seriously, it's fine, okay? It's not what you're thinking."

She gives a little nod, not trusting her voice quite yet, waiting for him to go on. Dipper sighs, letting go of her hands to reach down and try to be subtle about tucking himself back in his underwear.

"I mean it's not… that I'm not interested? It's just, we haven't ever… er, I… I haven't ever…"

He looks away from her. Mabel's eyebrows draw together in sympathy, the lump in her throat and prickling behind her eyes fading away.

Dipper makes an awkward face he probably doesn't realize he's making, scratching the back of his head. "And this isn't just some… like it's _you_ , and it's me, and–and maybe I'm making a way bigger deal out of this than I should be, I don't know, but—" he glances at her, his voice helpless, "I really don't wanna do anything to fuck this up, Mabel."

Her eyebrows shoot skywards, her head rearing back an inch. "Why are you automatically assuming this would this eff things up?"

"No, I'm not–I'm not assuming anything. I'm just saying, this is… this is new territory, Mabel," he swallows hard, "like, for us. Don't you think we should at least think about it some before we…" he makes a vague gesture with his hands, shrugging weakly. "I mean… you know?"

Mabel glances off to the side and back at her brother. It suddenly feels weird to still be on top of him, so she climbs off to sit at his side instead, drawing her knees to her chest. Her lips purse in thought. "You don't think maybe you're overthinking it just a _tiny_ bit? Maybe?" Her gives her an annoyed look, and she shrugs. "What? You were the one who just brought up how great this summer's been."

"I know. I know, and it has been great. These last few months have been so weirdly great, but I… I mean I feel like I'm pushing it already. This still feels really fragile, and I don't want anything to get ruined just because we didn't…ugh, I don't know…" Dipper trails off, exhaling heavily. "…I just don't want to lose you, okay?"

"Say whaaa? You, lose me? What do you think sex is like, dummy? The apocalypse?" Despite the joking around, she keeps her voice tender. "'Cause as you know, we've already been down that road and the comparison isn't really there. I'm afraid you might be overhyping this."

Dipper shakes his head, his eyes pleading. "I'm serious, Mabel. You're so important to me. Like as much as I enjoy… you know, this… I think we should at least talk about stuff before we plunge any deeper down this rabbit hole."

Mabel purses her mouth to one side. She can feel herself getting a little frustrated, because even though she knows Dipper's heart is in a good place, she really, really was not planning on having _this_ conversation – the conversation she's been pretending hasn't been inevitable since the second they first kissed– now, on her last day in the States, when all she wants to do is soak up the good-vibes-bro-time to the fullest. And she _knows_ this is the completely wrong thing to say, _especially_ to Dipper, but she's his sister, and it spills out of her mouth anyway, like word vomit. "Argh, come _on_ , man, what's there to really talk about anyway?"

Dipper's eyes go very wide. "Please tell me you're joking."

Mabel is painfully aware of that fact that she's on the wrong side of this argument, and can only find in herself to shrug, slumped with her hands in her lap, looking poutily away from him. She misses the way his cheeks fill with piqued color.

"What is there to _talk_ about? Oh, I don't know! How about the fact that we're freakin' siblings who fool around on the regular and _we've never ever talked about it!"_

The desperation and the borderline anger in his tone scares her. She shrinks into herself, picking at the tights crumpled around her ankle. "Woah, jeez, Dipper. If you wanted to talk so bad, why didn't you?"

"I don't know, why didn't you!"

Her face wilts further. "I guess I don't know either. You can stop yelling at me now."

Dipper's mouth opens and closes, his eyes filling with shame and regret. He turns away from her, dragging his hands down his face, his voice muffled as he mumbles, "sorry. I'm sorry."

He sighs, hard and defeated, face in his hands. Mabel twiddles her thumbs, feeling sad and awkward, wishing she knew what to say to make this better. She bites her lip, trying not to let her eyes well up like they want to. Dipper speaks up faintly before she can come up with anything.

"I don't know. We should have. We should have talked about it." He shakes his head. "I dunno Mabel, I mean you kissed me, and it didn't come up then and that was okay, I guess, because it never felt weird, or wrong, but… this is still happening and we _still_ haven't talked about it and now all of a sudden you wanna have sex and meanwhile–" A mirthless chuckle scratches out of his throat, "I'm this– lameass virgin with _no fucking clue_ what I'm supposed to be doing when it comes to me and you, _ever_ , like… god, Mabel, I'm… I'm your brother. I'm your fucking _brother_ , like, how have we never acknowledged that? Why doesn't that _bother_ you? I mean what do you think any of this is? What's… what the hell is supposed to be the endgame, here?"

He finally stops, staring at her hopelessly, his breathing rapid and anxious. He looks dangerously close to broken, and Mabel is speechless, because things were supposed to be better now and apparently they very much are not, and she was ill-prepared to see her brother's broken face again so soon. She swallows dryly, reaching out to lay a hand on his back. "Woahhh Dip. That's a lotta heavy questions at once. Just… breathe man. Breathe."

The seconds tick by agonizingly slow as Mabel just sits there patting Dipper's back, her mind racing for what to say next. She tries to keep on a brave face, but… this is a very weird situation to be in. Silent, sitting here all sad and pantsless in the middle of the woods next to her equally sad and pantsless brother. She's trying not to let this sudden wave of uncertainty overwhelm her, but it's hard. They're all fair questions. Questions she probably should've been thinking about too, and here she is just sitting there like a useless jerk, not really knowing any of the answers. And this… this has obviously been eating away at him for awhile.

She sighs through her nose, resting her chin on her knees. "Dipper… can I be totally honest with you?" He nods, but his face is lined with thinly veiled worry, like he's bracing himself for the worst. Mabel lifts her shoulders in a tiny shrug. "I haven't really… actually thought about any, uh, endgames. I just like being with you… you know, like this. I like the way you make me feel. A lot. And I guess I haven't totally thought through what that means, yet." She bites her lip, wincing as she looks at him. "That's bad, isn't it."

"No, it's not bad, it's just… how you feel." Dipper's words are nice, but by the look on his face, hers wasn't exactly the answer he was looking for. She guiltily chews her lip. He scrubs at his eyes with his fingers. "…I don't know. I'm not trying to like… force anything. Or… I don't know. Maybe I am overthinking it." He lets his face drop back into his hands. "I know I'm ruining your last day, and I'm sorry… man, why do I always have to ruin everything?"

"Dipper, c'mon, you didn't ruin anything. Believe me, this is confusing for me too. Before now, everything with us just sort of happened, you know? I… I guess I figured this would, too." She cringes again. "Was that super gross of me?"

"No, Mabel, you're not gross. I'm sorry for freaking out on you. It's just… like I _know_ , as easy as it was for us to fall into… whatever this is, I know what we're doing isn't… normal. Or… yeah. And it's kinda hard for me to get around that, because there aren't really any guidelines for this, or like, _anything_ to go off of at all, and I guess… I guess I'm afraid I'm gonna slip up one day. Or something will happen that we can't fix no matter how much we want to and… you're my sister, Mabel. You're my sister and I love you, and you've always been there for me, like, I-I wouldn't even… you're…" he swallows, fidgeting with this hands. "You're everything to me, Mabes. And I'm paranoid about doing something stupid and unfixable, a-and hurting you somehow, and losing you, and I can't– I can't lose you over this. I just – I can't."

He goes quiet, staring fixedly at his hands, his forehead tight. The urge to cry wells up in Mabel's throat again, but this time it's more towards the happy sort of crying. Definitely the emotional kind.

"Well, you always were the paranoid one," Mabel jokes softly, nudging an elbow into his side, and that gets a thick chuckle out of him. She takes one of his hands and holds it firmly in both of hers. "Hey, my big goober of a brother. I know this might be a lot to ask of you, but… try not to beat yourself up too hard about this stuff, okay? And maybe give yourself a little bit of credit. I know you, Dipper. You would never hurt me, not on purpose, at least. And I know we're kind of in uncharted waters here, and I get why you're scared. But you won't lose me, okay? I do know that much." She squeezes his hand. "You'll never lose me. Not now, not ever, and definitely not over this. Trust me," she jabs a thumb at her chest, "this gal? Super hard to get rid of. It's pretty much impossible. 'Specially when it comes to the twin bro, 'cause he's… I mean, you're everything to me, too. You know that, right?"

She stares into him, her thumb brushing back and forth over his, trying to further convey her feelings with glistening eyes and an earnest smile. It seems to be working, because he's smiling too, and bringing his gaze down to his hand in hers, quite obviously trying to draw attention away from the way he's blinking rapidly.

"Love you, Dip," she adds, even though it already goes without saying.

"Love you too," Dipper says quietly. "…Thanks."

Mabel snorts out a giggle even though her heart is beating ridic fast. "You nerd, did you just thank me for the love?"

" _No_ , I thanked you for… I dunno, everything, I guess. Just… thank you. For being you. All the time."

And there he goes again, looking at her with that look that makes her heart go full-on goopy.

"Oh my gosh. Come here already, if I don't hug you right now I will literally die." She doesn't wait for him to come to her, just heartily throws her arms around this wonderful, most treasured of persons, cradling his bushy head of hair and pressing his face into her neck.

"…Figuratively," Dipper says, the words muffled by her skin, unable to help himself.

"Shhhhut up," Mabel says, stroking her fingers through his hair.

Mabel holds him a while, long enough for them both to get their sincere sibling hug fill, before they ease apart. Dipper is back to looking happy and content, which causes a joyful feeling to spread in her chest. She almost laughs upon realizing their state of dress again–his pants are still where she left them bunched around his knees, she's not wearing any underwear, her tights look like a giant sock experiment gone wrong, and her left shoe is laying where it landed in a patch of grass ten feet away. Pff. They would have pivotal relationship conversations sitting half naked in some rando forest.

Ah, her and her twin, the two of them together. They're a couple of dorky weirdos, and she adores it.

Her gaze lingers on Dipper's grinning profile, and she licks her lips, her heart skipping a beat.

Hm. Yeah. Speaking of the half naked thing.

"Sooo, Dipper. My bee-loved broseph. Since we've cleared some of the air, would you, maybe, still be interested in um… some guilt-free uh-huh-huh-huh?" The back of her hand grazes up his thigh. "'Cosss… just sayin', the offer is still up for grabs."

Heat rushes back into Dipper's cheeks, and he stares down at the grass with a hard look. "Uhh… look, I just…" His eyes raise to bore into hers. "I really, really need you to be sure, Mabel. You have to be sure this is something you actually want. 'Cause we can't take it back, if we do this."

It takes everything she has for Mabel not to press her hands to her mouth and squee until birds start flying away. She doesn't, since she knows it would only annoy him and now is really not the time, but dang… how friggin' sweet is her brother, with how seriously he's taking doin' the do with her. It's just the amount of dorky she knows and loves, and cavity-level sweet, and man, no one on Earth could ever say this kid doesn't care, like _really_ care, when it comes to her.

Mabel gives him an easy smile, wanting to soothe his beautiful worrywart soul. "Don't worry. It really, really is." Heck, she wants him even more now that she did before.

"Okay, but are you –"

"Dipper, I'm _sure_. I need you to trust me when I tell you that. You can stop looking so worried, now." She pauses and raises her eyebrows slightly, eyeing him through her lashes. "Is it something _you_ actually want? I don't wanna push you out of your comfort zone, bro."

Dipper gulps, blushing and nodding maybe just a bit too fast. "I mean, yeah… yeah, it is."

She squints, her expression changing into an over-the-top skeptical one, "and you're suuuure?"

She's met with a stony look. "Quit it. Yes, I'm sure."

"Okeydoke! There you have it, consent all around. S'all good in the neighborhood." She makes a show out of shimmying closer to him on the blanket, walking her fingers back up his thigh.

"And– you're _sure_ we don't need any, uh, protection, or…" His eyes shift this way and that.

"Absotively posilutely, brother. I promise you, there will be no making of weird incest babies tonight. At least, not by us." She giggle-snorts, giving him two thumbs up.

Dipper laughs distractedly at her joke, caught up in nodding to himself, his fist thudding absentmindedly into his palm. "Okay. Okay. Then I guess, if you and I both… if we both… alright then. Well shit. Then I guess we… we can uh." He trails off, raising his eyebrows uncertainly at her as if asking permission to say it.

Oh boy. This is gonna be quite the interesting ride if he can't even _say_ it.

"Fornicate," Mabel steps in for him, raising her finger like a school teacher and using her most proper-sounding British accent.

Dipper cringes, a hand dragging down his face, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "Augh, _why_. Of all the ways to say fuck, you had to go with the worst possible option. Why, Mabel. Why you gotta hurt me like this."

"You wanker, you're the one who wouldn't even say it!" Mabel waves her hand dismissively. "Okay, boink, then. Dunk the dingus. Bop squiddles. Dance the forbidden polka. Take your pick."

"Where in the hellare you getting all these weird sex euphemisms?"

Mabel swings her leg back over his pelvis, hovering over him all fours and blowing her bangs out of her face in fake exasperation. "Yeesh, Deepurr. Juz be quiet so we can dahnce ze forbidden polka already."

"Right–okay," he says, gingerly laying back into the blanket. "Uh, are you gonna be doing that accent the whole time?"

"Meh-bee," she drawls, gently kissing the blooming hickey she left near his throat earlier. "Meh-bee not."

"Alrighty. Just wondering." Mabel giggles at his casual tone, feathering her lips along his jaw. Dipper keeps moving his hands around, from her back to her legs to her waist, as if he can't decide where to put them. His throat clears. "…Er, you should know that it might– it might not be very good," he warns awkwardly.

"Haha, you are just killin' it with the sexy talk, bro." She nuzzles their noses together, then starts to pepper little kisses all over his face, as if trying to kiss away his insecurities. "I don't care about any of that. I just wanna be with you. Okay?"

"Okay," he says softly, nodding and taking a breath. Mabel feels a surge of affection for him. She leans down to kiss him, ending it with a hearty 'muah.'

"No worries, bro-bro. I got your back."

The talking drops off. Dipper squirms a bit as she trails kisses down his neck, her tongue poking out here and there. Her nails drag gently up and down his chest, fingers jittery with excitement. She's very eager to get them back to where they were before all the talking, but she also wants to move this along at a pace her brother will be comfortable with, because she could hear the nerves in his voice while they joked around. She can feel how clammy his hands are as he glides them along her bare thighs.

After another minute or two of soft touches and reassuring kisses, Mabel scoots back to sit on his thighs. She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of Dipper's boxers, glancing up at him. He's propped up on his elbows, intently watching her every move.

"Still good?" she asks, giving him a little smile. He nods, swallowing and lifting his hips for her. "Then begone, Dipper's old underpants-he's-been-wearing-since-high-school," she proclaims, and carefully pulls away the faded plaid material. This time she gives her overeager eyeballs a second to look him over before getting down to business, and hot dang, she nearly whines at the sight of him. Propped up and staring at her with his big brown doe eyes and his wrinkled nerd t-shirt and his pants at his ankles and his downstairs-bizz finally bared for all the thirsty Mabels to see. He's definitely got the hairy look goin' on down there, but it's not like, _too_ Tarzan-meets-George-of-the-Jungle overwhelmingly so. His cock is relatively thick, a slight curve to it, flushed to a deep shade of pink. The modest length rests along his belly, rising and falling slightly as he breathes in and out, silently waiting on whatever she's planning next. Her front teeth rake over her lower lip. Yeah. Oh-ho yeah. She can definitely work with this.

The loaded silence is shattered when Dipper starts to babble, startling her out of her thoughts, "Look, you don't have to. Seriously, if you don't wanna do this–"

Mabel gives him an exasperated look. "Man, I thought we literally just established that I do!"

"Okay, then how long are you planning on just sitting there and staring at my junk, because it's getting kinda–"

"Wowww bro, is this your way of telling me to hurry up and get on with it?"

"What– no! Seriously? Ugh, Mabel…" Dipper shuts his eyes tightly, his features scrunching into an awkward face. "This is just. A little weird, I guess." His face un-scrunches to look at her uncertainly. "I mean… right?"

"Yeah… a little," she nods sympathetically. "I guess that part's pretty inevitable. But hey, when you get past the weird, you still want this… right?" She trickles her nails over the hair on his his thigh, letting them creep upwards until they're nearly touching his balls, tickling them back down. "'Cos I do."

"God, Mabel," he chokes out, nearly a whimper.

"You want this though, right?" Mabel repeats, grinning. "You want me to touch you?"

"I hate you _so_ much right now–"

"Nah, you don't." She waves off the comment. "Soo, weiner touching? You good? Yis?"

" _Yes_ , oh my god," he groans, letting his head fall back a second.

Mabel giggles, satisfied. "Glad we could establish that for the billionth time."

They're both semi-chewing on their bottom lips as Mabel's fingers reach out and close around him. Dipper shivers the second she makes contact, twitching a little in her hand, his shoulders tight. She decides to start with slow, easy pumps to both calm him down and test the waters. Dipper sighs, closes his eyes, and lets his head tilt back towards the pinkening sky overhead. The tension in his body begins to drain away as Mabel gently works him over, her eyes warm and reassuring, her hand steady. She watches a bead of pre rise from the tip, catching it with her thumb right as it starts to drip away. He shudders as she holds him between the tips of her fingers and brings her thumb down to rub gentle, wet circles just under the head. Then her hand wraps back around his cock to move faster, her other hand reaching to cup his balls, fingers squeezing with just enough pressure to make him twitch and moan. His lips mouth a curse. His head falls back further, his chest heaving out uneven breaths. Another drop of precum leaks out of him and Mabel presses her thighs tightly together at the sight.

She can't help it, she starts wiggling her eyebrows, "…Are ya feelin' it Mr. Krabs?"

Dipper snorts his eyes open, one corner of his mouth quirking up. "Uhh, _yeah_." He breathes out a strangled laugh, "you're um– you're good at this."

Mabel's smile softens, her hand slowing. "I can be good at other stuff too, ya know."

"Y–Yeah?" Dipper keeps his eyes trained on hers. They're dark, dilated, brimming over with want, affection, nerves, trust.

She swipes her tongue over her lips, holding his stare. "Mm-hm."

Mabel lets him go to splay her hand in the center of his t-shirt, pushing gently until he takes the hint and lies flat on his back. Dipper's weight shifts below her, antsily trying to get comfortable on the blanket. Hovering over him on her knees, she drapes fabric of her dress over his torso–teasing him a little by taking her sweet time to smooth out the creases–then reaches beneath the hem. Her hand curls around him, moving him upright. She can feel his skin jumping under her fingertips. She lets the tip of him graze against her, so he can feel for himself just how excited she is about this too, and he twitches again, his body shuddering. Despite his fluttering eyelids, he never takes his eyes off her. Her own breathing becomes ragged.

Dang. She can't remember ever being this eager about the prospect of sex. Especially when everything feels so easy and comfortable at the same time.

When Mabel can't take the achy anticipation any longer, she moves her hips down, taking care to watch Dipper's face as she slowly eases him inside of her. Her eyes greedily take in the way his brow furrows more and more the further down she sinks, how his mouth hangs open the whole time after that first, soundless gasp… the way his lower lip quivers, just for a second, when she can't go any further. Her eyes flick back up to connect with his, and the intensity she finds almost shocks her, making her face flush crimson. Just the way he's _looking_ at her. He looks so adorably awestruck, like this is the best thing that's ever happened to him and he just can't quite wrap his head around it, or something. _Guh_. She's pretty sure she just got significantly wetter.

He feels bigger than she thought he would, but not in a bad way. This is…definitely different. This is new, and somehow both weird as heck and friggin awesome at the same time, and her body throbs with satisfied exhilaration, flexing around him. Her eyes drift shut, and she takes in even breaths, giving herself a moment to adjust to the feeling. When they open again she shoots her staring brother a cheeky grin.

"Ehh? Some present, amiright?"

Dipper lets out a high pitched laugh, giving her his classic eyebrows-raised, wide-eyed, well-that's-the-understatement-of-the-fucking-century look, but nods in agreement anyway. "Yeah, some–" His voice cracks harder than she's heard it crack in years. His Adam's apple bobs and he tries again. "…Some present."

Mabel laughs, leaning down to push his curly bangs aside and press her lips to his forehead, right on the bowl of his birthmark. She sits back up, palms bracing on his stomach. "Okay. Hold onto your butts."

She starts things off slow, gently swaying her hips back and forth in his lap. Dipper's eyes close and he lets his head flop back into the grass, groaning _"ohh my god,"_ under his breath. His fingers fist the bunched up blanket beneath them, while hers curl into the front of his shirt. Mabel bites her lip, letting out a small whine. Oh my god is right.

It takes him a hot second, but eventually Dipper snaps out of wherever his brain was at enough to move, tentatively at first, his sweaty hands releasing their vise-grip on the blanket to slide back up her legs. Mabel feels his thumbs caressing her inner thighs, his touch careful and delicate. Their mutually labored breathing fills the hot summer air around them, the sound egging her on– and Dipper, bless his heart, seems to gain more and more confidence with every rise and fall of his hips, his moves graduating from just a _little_ bit stiff to fairly seamless, and dare she say it, hot as fuh. As usual, Dip way undersold himself, to say the freakin' least.

" _Mm_ yeah… just like that," she murmurs breathily, half because she is _really_ feelin' this and half to encourage him, keen on keeping the whole confidence thing going. Her words must do something for him, his eyes opening just long enough for him to grip her shoulders and pull her down into a frantic liplock. His arms wrap around her, one hand tangling in her hair while the other clutches around her back, holding her like he never wants to let her go. Oh, sweet Jesus. Right now she never wants him to.

They break apart, breathing heavily. Mabel sits up a little, and Dipper's hands take the opportunity to drop to her breasts. She gasps out a moan, pressing their foreheads together, and he curses, his voice soft and breaking. His hips have begun to rock so enthusiastically that he's pretty much doing most of the work now, and Mabel is completely okay with that, because being held and kissed and touched and fucked like _this_ , all at the same time, by _Dipper_ , is… it's… wow. Wowwow _wow_. The onslaught of feeling wipes her brain into a blissfully blank slate, the last of her inhibitions falling away.

"Right there," she whines in his ear, her voice barely above a whisper. "A-ah, god, Dipper. Don't stop."

Dipper makes a sort of high-pitched noise and buries his face in her neck, his arms hugging her closer. He hits a spot that makes her cry out, leaving her suddenly very grateful that they're out here in the middle of nowhere. Her forearms start to shake where they brace themselves on the ground on either side of his head, her legs quivering helplessly. She can hardly hold her weight up without completely smooshing into him anymore. All she wants to do is melt, melt into his arms and just let him take her. Take it all, man. She's good to go.

When his bold rhythm inevitably starts to falter, Mabel cuts him a break, nipping his earlobe and kissing his cheek before she leans all the way back upright. Dipper moves like he wants to sit up with her but she pushes him back and holds him down, using her knees to start gaining some height. "Oh _fuck_ _yes_ ," he breathes, his efforts evaporating, his head rolling back. Mabel grins and licks her lips, throwing herself into keeping up a steady pace, brushing off any protests from her legs. At one point she gets a little carried away in the moment and lifts up so far that he falls out of her, and they laugh breathlessly as she quickly reaches down to slip him back in. The laughter dies away when she significantly picks up the pace, bouncing hard in his lap.

"O-oh shit, oh holy fuck Mabes, _nnnh, Mabel,_ " Dipper shudders out a strangled sound through the string of hushed whimpers pouring from his mouth, his fingers digging into her hips, just doing his best to hold on. All he seems capable of at the moment is just lying there, frozen in ecstasy beneath her, his back arched slightly off the ground… which turns out is a satisfying as heck sight. Mabel watches his face contort, his eyebrows drawing further and further together under the bangs stuck to his forehead. His cheeks puff out for a second in between ragged breaths, his jaw clenching, and apparently the hilariously overwhelmed faces Dipper makes during sex only serve to make her want to ride him harder, and so she does, and he lets her. He'd probably let her do anything right now and Mabel knows it, and she knows he knows it, too– she can see it in that helpless look in his eyes, dark and dilated and lovesick. She _has_ him, has more of him than anyone else has ever had and he's giving it all to her so readily – she pivots harder – and, and he has her, she has him and he has her and _god_ this is such a ridiculously exhilarating feeling–

Dipper tenses suddenly, using his grip on her to try and slow her down, "w-wait, shit, can we— _ahhnMabelwaitwait_ —"

Mabel comes to an abrupt stop, surprised and out of breath. "Whuh? Sorry. That too, uh… that not good for you?"

He gives her a winded smile, panting, shaking his head against the ground, flecks of grass stuck in his hair. "No, it's– holy fuck. It's too good, Mabel." He laughs softly through his heavy breaths. "I just really don't want it to be over yet."

"Ohh." She grins and cups the side of his face, stroking her thumb over his flushed cheek. "In that case I guess I could go a little easier on you. I _guess_."

"Jesus, you're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

They laugh quietly, and even now, his face emotes just the right amount of longing and warmth, with just the slightest hint of shyness. Gosh he's adorable. And annoyingly sexy for someone she's known literally her entire life. She leans down for a long, slow kiss.

"Can I move?" Mabel whispers, after they break apart.

"God, yeah," he rasps, nudging his hips pleadingly up to hers. His voice sounds so much deeper than she's used to. It sends a shiver down her spine and a need rushing through her, prompting her to start rocking on him again.

They keep it slow, deliberate and sensual. It feels so heart-poundingly intimate, Mabel's toes are curling inside her shoe. Tentativeness long gone, Dipper's hands drag from her waist to cup her ass, where he squeezes, sighing out. His shirt gets pushed up, her fingertips tracing up his skin, and she bends to trail open mouthed kisses up his chest, his collarbone, neck, lips. Dipper groans into her mouth, and she squeals into his when he starts to tug her down to meet each of his thrusts, driving himself deeper.

Sweet mother of Moses. He feels so good. This is so _good,_ what the heck, she can't get over how good this is. Oh fffrick. And she's so damn close.

Okay that's it, can't resist anymore–

Mabel yanks up the hem of her dress, clutching the fabric in a fist against her stomach so she can reach down with the other hand and touch herself, two of her fingers curving in small, tight motions. She can see Dipper's line of vision immediately drop to take in his first eyeful of their connected bodies and he whispers a swear, twitching inside her. His hands clutch her ass like it's his last lifeline, his eyes glued where they are and openly devouring the sight, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. Mabel eagerly feeds into his awe, making a show of rising up as high as she can, then slowly letting every inch of his glistening cock disappear from sight again. She rotates her hips in deliberate circles for good measure, staring him down, her lips parted. A high-pitched moan strains out of him, his expression almost pained, his face redder than she's ever seen it.

"Mabel," he gasps, throwing his head back and shutting his eyes tight, " _fuck_ , I-I'm gonna come."

"Yes oh god please Dip, comeinsideme," she gasps back without missing a beat, her hips rolling, fingers never slowing. Her eyes close and her free hand pitches forward in search of his, and she feels him grab on tightly.

Mabel opens her eyes just in time to see her brother's head toss to the side, mouth hanging open, eyes screwed shut. His breathing gets harsher, his stomach twitching along with each ragged exhale, and in between them he manages to sigh out her name and a few swears. For a second she's struck with the impulse to giggle at the hilarious expression on his beet-red face before it clicks with her that _dang_ , that's Dipper's O-face. Wow. He… he is lettin' that dude juice loose. Like, right now. Inside of her. Holy friggin' crapcakes, that is hot. She rubs herself furiously, trying to brand the sight into her brain, still moving on him as he shudders underneath her.

Mabel's eyes squeeze closed. Her legs are shaking and she's to that delicious point where she _knows_ she's going to get her big finish, she just has to keep up this pace and this pressure for a few… more…

"Yesyesyesohmygod _yes_ ," Mabel practically shrieks. Her orgasm courses through her so powerfully that she cries out, doubling over on top of him. Dipper's arms lock around her as she whimpers into his neck, trembling fingers pressed to her clit, the tension between her legs seeping away in tremoring waves. Dipper holds her almost protectively so, cradling her to him even after she goes limp and still.

After a period of just lying there and breathing heavily, the laughter hits. It starts with a few giggles, then comes a snort, and it quickly escalates from there. They laugh until they're even more of a couple of red-faced, sweaty messes than they already were, because that was… ludicrous. Ludicrous only in the way feeling your brother's jizz drip out of you as you lose your giggleshit with him can be. And as Mabel laughs at how absurd this should be, it hits her how rampantly _happy_ she feels, spent and tingling, pressed against her favorite person in the world, feeling him shake with laughter.

She rolls off to his side on the tangled blanket, using her arm as a pillow, feeling grass tickling at her skin. The blanket has become so tangled and bunched up that they're both half on the grass, half off. Next to her Dipper still tries to get his breathing under control, his cheeks ruddy, a mess of grass in his hair and stuck to his clothes. He tilts his head to look over at her, his eyebrows raised, and Mabel can't help but let out another giggle.

"Not the _end_ of the world, right?"

He grins, then shakes his head, already rolling over towards her, his warm hands cupping her face. His eyes lock on hers, adoring and half lidded, before they fall shut and he kisses her softly, his thumb caressing her chin. She feels his tongue sweep delicately inside her mouth with a little hum just as the _Z-Files_ theme starts blaring, the sudden noise breaking the calm atmosphere. Dipper mutters a curse and sits up, digging his hand into a pocket of the jeans pushed around his ankles. He pulls out his phone and squints at the screen.

"Uh… it's Mom." He says dumbly, looking to Mabel for help. She shrugs and purses her lips.

"Yeahh… maybe let that one go to voicemail."

He nods slowly, half avoiding her eyes as he sets the ringing phone down next to him and reaches down to pull up his pants. He's doing that Dipper thing where he tries way too hard to be nonchalant, and she feels herself on the verge of making a joke about his boy modesty, but holds it in at the last second. The air between them feels slightly stuffier all of a sudden. Dang it, post-coital-shared-mother phonecalls!

As he refastens his belt she finally gives in and follows his lead, groggily pulling up her underwear and tights, blushing at the dripping sensation she still feels down below. Next to her her own phone starts ringing, and she begrudgingly picks it up and looks at the caller ID.

"Dang it, Mom again. What is the _deal_ with her awk-o timing." She makes an uncomfortable whining noise, glancing over at Dipper, who is absolutely no help whatsoever with that uneasy hey-don't-look-at-me expression on his big dumb face. She glares halfheartedly at him, rolling her eyes and letting her thumb hover over the answer call button. She doesn't particularly want to talk to her mother like five minutes after doin' the nasty with the bro. But it is her last night this side of the Atlantic for a while, and she does recall her parents telling her they wanted to take the family out for a bon voyage dinner tonight. Her thumb presses down.

"Heyyyyy Mommy dearest! What's the haps?" Her voice came out louder than she meant it to. Oops.

As her mother's voice comes through the line, she turns to find Dipper shaking his head, frantically trying to tell her something with sweeping hand gestures.

"Why am I out of breath? Haha, jeez Mom, what are you, a cop?" Dipper makes a why-god-why face and Mabel punches him in the shoulder. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. We were just, y'know, having… a walk! In the woods." She grins over at Dipper, elbowing him suggestively. "Actually you could probably call it more of a power walk. A power hike! Very vigorous stuff… uh huh. Haha yeah, too true." She elbows her brother again, barely able to contain her laughter. "Mom said she's glad, you need the exercise."

" _Mabel_. Oh my god," Dipper mutters from where he's crouched over with his hands on the back of his head, practically rocking back and forth.

"Yeah… yeah, that sounds great! Okay, we'll head back now… see ya soon!" She clicks out of the call and grins over at Dipper. "Mom says we're leaving for dinner as soon as we get home."

"You're terrible," he shakes his head in disbelief, a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Terribly _amazing_. I'm gonna go do the pee in the woods thing real quick, you sit tight." She pushes herself up to stand on legs that are a little wobbly, trotting towards the tree line behind them before he can say anything.

When Mabel comes back, she finds the blanket folded, the backpack packed, and Dipper with his knees pulled to his chest and his chin resting on his arms, eyes back on the horizon. She gnaws on her lower lip, walking over and plopping down next to him.

"How you doin', Dips," she asks softly. "You've got that pensive look on your face again. You're not over there having regrets, are you?"

"No, no, I'm just," he chuckles, running his hands over his face and rubbing his eyes, "you know. Still trying to come to terms with the fact that I just had _really_ good sex with my sister, I guess."

She elbows him suggestively. " 'Really good sex,' huh?"

A bit of the color drains from Dipper's face. "Well yeah, I thought so at least. I mean it seemed like – it was okay for you, right?"

"Nooo, I was just fake crying out in ecstasy."

He points a finger at her. "Hey. Don't joke about that. People _do_ do that."

"Wompwompwomp," Mabel pokes at his face. "No but seriously that was awesome. 'It might not be very good' my ass, Dip, up top!" She offers a hand for him to high-five, and he does, grinning ear to ear. She giggles, leaning over to give his cheek a quick kiss. "That definitely needs to happen again at some point, yeah?"

Dipper's head flops back towards the sky and he lets loose a blissful, relieved sound. " _Yes_. Agreed. Thank fucking god."

Mabel laughs, ruffling his hair, falling into her 'game show announcer' voice. "Dipper _Pines_ , you just got laid, son! What are you gonna do next!"

Dipper pumps his fists in the air, "I'm gonna… go eat dinner with my parents! Apparently."

"Helllzyea! Makin' good decisions today!"

They dissolve into laughter again, nudging each other playfully. Dipper slings an arm around her shoulders and presses a kiss to her temple. "Man," he says after a small pause, "I'm really going to miss you."

"Me too," she says softly. "But the semester will go by fast, no worries."

"Not too fast though. You're gonna have an amazing time, enjoy it. I'll be right where you left me when you get back."

"Aww," Mabel pecks his cheek again, "good to know, bro."

She stands, offering him a hand that he takes with a smile, not letting go once she helps pull him to his feet.

 **# The semester starts without mabel. he's got a car now. taking a normal amount of classes. still living in the dorms.**

 **-myles update? stoner dip update? change of major? He's doin better. But also he's in love with his sister? whoops**

Dipper stares into the smudged bathroom mirror, his hands holding onto either side of one of the sinks. He tries mouthing the words first, watching his lips slowly form together the necessary components of the would-be sentence. He mouths it faster. He does this a few more times before he stops, taking a deep breath, squinting at his reflection.

"I love you… no. I love you?…I love you."

He nods to himself, mumbling "yeah… yeah, ok," under his breath. For the tenth time he glances over both shoulders to make absolutely sure he's alone in the questionably-smelling third floor bathroom of his dorm, before looking back into his own eyes and going again. "I. Love you. I _love_ you."

Yeah. That sounds… that sounds okay. This is gonna be okay.

"I love you, Mabel."

When he says her name aloud he can't stop himself from wincing, feeling his stomach churn. His mouth shuts, and his gaze falls away from his reflection.

Ah, shit. This is probably weird. This is definitely weird. This wasn't supposed to happen, was it? When they started all… this. Or was it? Fuck, he doesn't know. As usual, he doesn't have much to go off of, here. But these feelings for Mabel feel like they're eating him alive, now that he knows they're there. So he figured it might help if he told her, because she deserves to know, right? And there's also the fact that he sort of feels like he's dying, and he doesn't know what else to do.

He runs his hand through his hair, thinking vaguely that he needs to shower. His eyes are tired. More than usual. It's always something with him, isn't it.

Fuck. This really is a thing, though. He's that guy. He's that weirdo who fell for his sister. Hard and deep. Yeesh. He hasn't even seen Mabel in a month and a half, but she pretty much dominates the vast majority of his thoughts. When he's not thinking about anything else, he's thinking about her. How much he misses her, how much he wishes she was here, how much he wants to kiss her and hold her tight against him again. His heart nonstop aches for her, and he can't turn it off. It's driving him _nuts._

Truthfully, Dipper probably realized he was in love with her (God. In love with her. In _love_ with Mabel) at some during her last day in the states, when they were together on the side of that hill. After the sex was over and they'd laughed until he felt like he might throw up a little and then he'd kissed her. At some point during that span of events. Most likely.

But he hadn't been able to admit it to himself until a few days ago. He's pretty damn sure he's never been in love before this, and it's hard to know exactly what love feels like if you've never been in love before, and he had to rule out absolutely every other possible thing these feelings could be before owning up to–he winces at himself again– the L word. And he hasn't been able to say it until…well, just now.

 **This was going somewhere… but where…**

 **# Another therapy session here? the last one (in the fic). Idk. this part is all broken up and short but i didn't wanna cut it out. He has therapy and then gets out and calls mabel and hangs up**

"I guess I'm just missing her."

"You should tell her that, then."

 _Mabel, I love you. So, so much. You are everything to me. Every time I think about you my chest will ache. You're the reason I'm even here at all. I don't know how to put into words how much I fucking love you._

As he holds the phone to his ear, his own voice echoes in his brain. _I really don't wanna do anything to fuck this up, Mabel._ Sweat dots along his temples as the line continues to ring, his heart beating faster.

 _Don't be a ruiner, Dipper._

Two more rings.

 _Don't be a ruiner–_

He impulsively ends the call before it can ring again, breathing out something between a sigh of relief and a sigh of defeat. His thumb presses down on the power button just in case she sees the missed call and tries to call back. He can't take that call for at least a few hours. He stuffs his phone into his pocket, and trudges his way to the nearest bus stop, plopping down, his head in his hands.

 **#STUff happens i dont know i never figured it out. A lot of stuff is missing. But it's later and dipper can't take it anymore, he gets out of therapy and impulsively calls mabel. ps you have officially made it to the makeshift end of spaced. it will not be at all cheesy and/or sappy**

"Hey, Mabel–"

"Ahh, Dip! It's so good to hear your voice!" He can barely hear her over the loud chatter in the background, she must be out somewhere. "You about to head to therapy? That's still on Tuesdays right?"

"No, I mean yeah, I…" he rubs the back of his neck, "I got out a half hour ago."

"Aw. Next time you gotta tell Elise I say hi!" He hears someone call Mabel's name, and she says she'll be back in a bit, she's on the phone with her brother. He swallows. "So what's up with you? What time is it there, like four? How have I still not grasped this time difference, what the heck."

"It's a quarter after five, uh. I was just… I wanted to…" _Shit_. He closes his eyes. "Mabel, I, uh… I love you…"

Dipper hears her 'aww' and giggle. "Aw shucks, did you call just to tell that to lil' ol' me? I love you too, dork."

He shakes his head, frustrated, his chest feeling ready to burst. "No, no, I meant I'm like– _in_ love with you." She doesn't say anything right away and Dipper forces himself to breathe. "Is that… okay? …Mabel?"

"Yeah! I'm here, Dip. Sorry, I was just–hold on, lemme get outta here and find somewhere not so freakin loud–"

"Uh… okay."

As he hears the rustling sounds of Mabel making her way out of a pub thousands of miles away, Dipper can feel the words stewing around inside him, the apologies, the explanations. Some of it bubbles up right as the background noise on the other end of the line dies down. "Hey, look… if I just made things weird, I'm sorry. That's not what I… I'm not expecting you to say it back, or anything. And I know whatever ends up happening, we'll always have each other, so no worries, okay? It's just," he flushes, his sentences speeding up, "the thought has been stuck in my head for a while and I can't really stop thinking about it, or you, or that day in the woods, and it's been driving me a _little_ crazy, haha, so… yeah. I just. Thought I should tell you, I guess? That I am in love with you. Yup."

Mabel coos his name into the phone, her voice awed and soft. "Oh, wow… we really haven't done this, have we?"

His mouth has gone so dry that he has to lick his lips before he can speak. "Done what?"

"You know… the whole heavy 'I love you' thing."

"…Uh, no. We have not." He scuffs his shoe against the ground, his heart beating painfully hard in his chest. "…Did you think we already had or something?"

"No, I. This is just. _Hoo_." She lets out a breathless sound. "Wow."

"Okay, is that… good wow? Or bad, or…" Dipper draws one sweaty hand through his hair. "Mabel, you gotta help me out a little, I'm drowning over here."

"Ah, sorry! Oh poop, yeah, I could be using my words better right now, okay. Words Mabel, _words_. Hoo. Okay. I just– I guess I felt like the love thing was pretty obvious, for like a while, now? Especially since that day before I left… you were kinda sayin' it with your eyes there, Dip. And with that sweet sweet bod of yours, eyyy," she laughs. "And now it's like, I'm realizing we never did actually say it to each other before now and that's just… haha, ahh, we are such lamers! Like _bluh_ , why did it take us so long, you know?"

"The sibling thing, duh," Dipper responds automatically, then it sinks in and his heart stops beating for a second. He's almost breathless as he murmurs out the words, a stunned smile blooming on his face. "So, you're saying…"

"That I love you too? Oh my gosh, _yes_ , for sure. One-hundred-percent sure that I definitely do love you, Dipper, like, way more than average-everyday-society would be okay with." She laughs. "We're in the same cray-cray boat here, man. This happened, the trick is to just go with it."

Dipper presses his lips tightly together for a second, his chest so full of happiness it hurts. He feels like he might start shaking. No more worrying or wondering. She loves him _back_.

"Well that's… really good to hear," he says faintly, his voice faraway, laced with laughter and joy and relief. Mabel giggles happily and blows a huge raspberry right into the receiver.

"Wait, fricken nuggets, I just realized I ruined a big relationship moment– crap, can we try that again from the top?" Before he has the chance to answer he can hear her put down the phone for a second with a 'fwump' and pick it back up. "Bring bring, hellooo? Oh hey! Well whaddya know it's my broseph calling! What up, Dip?" When he doesn't respond right away, "Pssst. That was your cue, man. You need me to feed you your line?"

Dipper rolls his eyes. "Somehow I don't feel like this holds the same weight."

"Will you just say the line?" she demands in the same loud whisper.

"Okay okay, jeez." He squints off to the side. "Um, I love you?"

"Oh, lame. Come on Dipper, like you mean it!"

"Mabel, I _love_ you. Deal with it."

"Hellzyeah I will, 'cos I love you too." He's still not used to hearing her say it in this context, and it makes him feel winded, in a good way. "So… feel better now? Less sweaty?"

"Significantly."

"Well that's good. I could hear it dripping into your buttcrack all the way from Europe."

"Wow. And I apologize for that." He sits down on the edge of his bed, absently fixing his eyes on an empty soda can on the floor. "Okay so, just to clarify… we're like, together, then. We're like. A thing."

"Hm…Yeah man, I think we kinda are. T-B-H, I think we have been for a while. That cool?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." His smile grows so wide that his face starts to hurt. Mabel lets out a small, joyful giggle. "As long as it's what you want, it's definitely what I want."

"Good. because it is. You don't have to beat yourself up wondering about me and you anymore, okay? I wanna be with you, Dip. Just you. I think I always kinda have, in some form or another."

Dipper's suddenly feels his eyes prickling. "So have I," he says softly.

Mabel hums, happy and soft. He closes his eyes and focuses on the sound of her voice and it's almost like she's right next to him, rather than 5000 miles away. "We're stickin' together, bro. Mystery twins 'til the end. Blip, blap?"

God, he can't stop _smiling_. "Bloopity bloop."

" _Twins_ ," they say in unison, and Dipper relaxes back into his pillow, breathing out, feeling lighter than air.

"…You really can't stop thinking about me? Dipper, so cheesy of you."

"Hey. I was sharing my feelings, you're not supposed to judge me."

"Nahh, I got no room to talk. I can't stop thinking about you, either."

"Well… shucks." Dipper says, beaming. He sighs, content and suddenly tired. "I miss you," he says, cradling the phone against his ear as he lays down on his side, curling up in bed. "My therapist told me I should tell you that."

"I miss you too, so so much. And your therapist is a smart lady." Someone playfully hollers her name in the background, and Mabel calls that she'll be there in a second. "Hey, I kinda straight up ditched the girls I dragged out tonight, so I should probably–"

"Yeah, no worries, go ahead."

"Cool. I'll text you if anything amazing happens."

"Obviously."

"Okay bye, love you– oh! And do your homework, kid."

"Yeah, yeah, I will. Love you too." Dipper ends the call and closes his eyes, still grinning ear to ear.


End file.
